Unleash the Eyebrow

I was away working this week and staying in a hotel where I had no mobile phone signal. I had to go up the road and sit in the car to call home. Marianna had called Max and told him he’d got the job but we needed him to sort out Martin. He visited and, according to Marianna, became quite annoyed when she told him about his objections. It was agreed that he and Martin would meet at our house this evening. She told me beforehand that she felt that Martin was taking the piss now and she would be unleashing her full Greekness and be quite blunt if he didn’t comply and tell him he was pissing us about and we wanted to use a party wall specialist. I wondered if I should warn Max so we could both take cover. He arrived at 4.45, with Martin due at 5. Max had spoken to Bill Hancock, the party wall specialist, earlier in the day and casually told him about our dilemma. Bill’s advice was that we should go next door and insist that Martin remove his guttering. We told Max that we needed to keep Martin on board a bit since we were yet to tell him that the scaffolding for our extension would largely be surrounding his house. Martin arrived at five, armed with his drawings, pencils and set square. It turned out that they recognised each other but couldn’t recall quite where from, but they seemed to have a lot of shared acquaintances. I think this knocked Martin off balance a little. Then Max began work, telling him that he would use a boxed gutter and a lead flashing and made a little sketch of how this would be achieved. He said this would be sufficient for Martin's worries about storms of Biblical proportions. Marianna and I sat in silence while Martin just repeated “Yeah, okay” and accepted all that Max told him. He brought Martin down to earth like a clay pigeon. Then we went outside to discuss the boundary and Max blew Martin’s logic aside. He accepted that our garage would move in by two inches. Max later said that once it was knocked down Martin wouldn’t be able to measure the two inches anyway. Martin agreed that if Max made a sketch of the boxed gutter and we did a letter for us all to sign about the garage shrinking by two inches then he’d sign the Party Wall Agreement. Max then mentioned the scaffolding. It suddenly seemed that negotiations went downhill but Max rescued it, largely by explaining that there was absolutely no way we could build anything without scaffolding around their house. He reassured him endlessly that any damage done to their roof would be rectified at our expense. And so Martin agreed that if Max’s scaffolder wrote a letter detailing how the scaffolding would be done he would agree to this too. And we all shook hands. Max was a man amongst men. Well, amongst the four of us he was. Max will do his sketch by Monday. His scaffolder will come in the morning and then do a letter detailing how he will work and we’ll make a little letter for us and Martin to sign. Good times. As he left Martin, good humouredly, said we should listen out for the high pitched scream when he told Anne about the scaffolding. I wasn’t sure if the scream would be hers or his when she slammed his testicles in a drawer. When they had both left Marianna did a little dance.

XLNT2 - A Rather Pricey Sequel

Just moments ago Andy Graham’s quote finally staggered over the finishing line. It’s a Bank Holiday so he must have hand delivered it. I don’t know if he rang the doorbell (doesn’t work) or assumed because the car isn’t here that we’re out (The car is lilting in Haverhill) but I’m glad we didn’t chat about the quote (my hair is particularly huge and unruly today). It was very nicely presented in a little folder and he had carefully detailed all of the work and the cost of each stage but he was 26% over our original budget and that may prove to be a sticking point in our future relationship. Apart from the price and the length of time it took him to produce a quote he wanted to be in our hands within six days something about it just said he’d really misread the situation, us and our circumstances.
“Can I buy you a drink?
“No, thank you”
“Dinner?”
“No”
“I suppose sex is going to be out of the question, then”

Storage

BUILDERS - Max seems to be top of the pile at the moment, partly because his quote arrived when he said it would and we hope that’s an indicator of a general level of efficiency. Marianna called him and asked for the names and addresses of recent customers on the 26th and a list of three came through the letter box a couple of hours later. First thing on Monday we met with one of these. The extension to Helen’s Georgian house was a stunning piece of work. The thought that one day our semi-derelict collection of bricks could look like that made me feel quite emotional. She couldn’t have been more generous in showing us around and detailing the story of their remodelling which involved removing the entire back wall of the house and extending outwards into their garden. They had, however, left the original house untouched and so that will be a project for the years to come. She gave us the business cards of her kitchen designer and a surveyor who is a party wall specialist. We may have to employ him, at some expense, if Brian won’t play nicely. We’ll try to contact another former customer but Max is in pole position.

On Monday whilst I was discovering that Cambridge is a city free from car parking opportunities Andy Graham left a voicemail. The quote was almost ready and could we make a date so he could present it to us. I’m yet to ring back.

STORAGE - Last Saturday we called on Montague Storage in Warwick. For those of you who haven’t visited the area Warwick and Leamington are pretty much joined at the hip. I don’t know where one town ends and the other begins. They are the Jedward of local geography. Marianna had already enquired of the company we used when we moved to Coventry from Hull in August 2008 who told her that their price for six months storage would be £968. Her negotiations with Phil at Montague Storage began at £951 for six months. She kept saying she wanted to pay £100 per month. Those of you kind enough to be reading will notice there is some considerable distance between £600 and £951 and yet that distance diminished over the next few minutes. Phil kept saying he couldn’t do it for any less than £900/800/700 and she kept saying she wanted to pay £100 a month and in the end he said yes. This is despite the fact that there are no other storage companies locally and he knew his original price was cheaper than other companies in the wider area. Marianna later complained that I just stood and smirked during the negotiations but I couldn’t help myself. It is highly amusing to watch a grown man being charmed into throwing away all profit and leaving his children hungry and bills unpaid. However, Phil’s main business is next door and involves servicing very expensive cars so he’ll probably survive.

I may put a poster on our storage unit for all of the other customers – THIS UNIT ONLY COST US £100 A MONTH. HOW MUCH WAS YOURS?

So, today just nineteen months after leaving Hull and ten months after we moved our possessions out of storage and out of the rental house in Coventry we were, yet again, loading our belongings into a rental van. It was hard work, not helped by rain. We arrived at Montague’s and began carrying boxes and items of furniture out of the van, into the building, up the stairs and into our unit. Nothing at the gym prepares you for a workout like this. Tragically, during our second visit Marianna hurt her arm and was no longer able to lift. Typically and illogically she kept trying to lift things one armed and I continued with the workout whilst telling her to rest. Finally, one of the staff who’d been milling about and watching us go back and forth and up and down the stairs said “Would you like me to put a pallet into the back of your van so you can load it and then forklift it onto the first floor?”. I wanted so say “You have a forklift? A fucking forklift! Did you have a forklift when you watched me carry the sideboard up the stairs on my own half an hour ago?!” but of course I said “Really? That would be so good of you”. This was Clive. I loaded boxes onto the pallet and it was fork-lifted out of the van and onto the first floor and then he used some hand forks to wheel them straight into the unit. With sofas and sideboards and our wardrobes it was looking quite homely in there. I liked Clive. He asked why we were moving our furniture out of the house and we told him about the state of it and the re-wiring, re-plumbing, re-glazing. “Why don’t you want to do these things yourself?” he asked. “These jobs are very simple. Professionals make them seem complex so as to make themselves money. Go to a library and get a book and learn”. I was going off Clive. “You shouldn’t be lazy about these things”. I didn’t like Clive. I wanted to tell him that I had skills too. I should have said “I have skills too. You show me a paedophile and I’ll list their risk factors and the likelihood of reoffending quicker than you can say ‘Neck down alopecia’”. But I didn’t. I wanted him to keep driving the forklift for me. We began at eight and finished at five. It’s been an exhausting day. The house looks a little emptier but no less chaotic but at least we can really start the final stages of gutting it now.

OUR NEIGHBOURS AND THEIR BLOODY GUTTER - When we arrived home on Saturday afternoon Anne was weeding at the front of her house. We both said hello but not a sound came in response. Marianna made a point of going out there again later to force a greeting from her. On Tuesday evening she took Malcolm’s latest sketches to Martin. She didn’t loiter. “Have a look and let us know what you think”.

IT NEVER RAINS BUT IT POURS - Oh, and on Tuesday a wheel fell off my car. I went down a pot hole but drove another mile perfectly well before it became apparent what the steering wheel was no longer controlling the direction in which the car went. I called for a recovery truck but would have preferred a private ambulance from The Priory. I waited for some time for the recovery vehicle to rescue myself and the car. When it was lifted onto the truck the front driver’s side wheel flopped about like the appendage of a ninety year old newlywed in the honeymoon suite. When the car and I got to the garage the mechanic looked at the car for several minutes and returned to write on their paperwork – Wheel has come off. Nothing more technical. I was only 2.2 miles from the prison where a man who’d been convicted of GBH awaited me so I left the car at the garage and got a taxi there. I was discussing my adventure with a representative of our insurance company as I travelled. I booked a cab to collect me two and half hours later but someone stole my ride and I stood in the rain for forty five minutes. Marianna’s conversations with the insurance company while I was in the prison centred around whether I’d had an incident or an accident and so no decision could be made about a claim or courtesy car. I couldn’t quite see how I could get from one prison miles from a train station to another prison even further from a station by nine the next morning. I think it was this and the level of dampness, cold and misery I was experiencing that prompted me to call my Uncle Les, who lived only fourteen miles from the puddle I was standing in. He collected me and returned me to his home, my Aunt Jo and a huge meal. Sometimes, however old you are, it’s nice to be treated like you’re a ten year old. I loved seeing them but I also loved not being in our house. I stayed the night and the next day Les let me take his car to my next prison in Norfolk. Well, his car is a 4x4 the size of Denmark. This was Jo's car, a Suzuki, the size of a briefcase. It felt odd driving someone else's car and i was more than a little anxious. I haven’t driven so carefully since taking lessons as a seventeen year old. After a morning spent discussing the downloading of materials from the internet, I returned the car, ate another huge meal (and pudding) and Les took me to the train station so I could spend four and three quarter hours travelling the 116 miles home. When the car is fixed next week I’ll need to repeat the train journey to collect it.

KBB

John England’s quote finally came and was disappointing. It wasn’t the amount that was disappointing since this was about the same as Max. It was the limited amount of information that was on the quote that was worrying and made it look a bit unprofessional. The other two had detailed at length all the work that would be done whereas John seemed to have a just written ‘a spot of light building’ and it didn’t seem that he was too interested.

Yesterday Marianna found herself with a couple of hours to kill in Birmingham so she headed to the KBB (Kitchens, Bedrooms, Bathrooms) show at the NEC [I know. One more attendance and she gets her own parking space]. On arrival she discovered that it was a trade only show but approached the ticket desk to see if she would be allowed in. Her purse was open and her student ID visible and the woman at the counter said “Oh, you’re a student. You don’t have to pay. Just go on in”. And that’s how easy gate-crashing was. So she wandered around, charming people and overwhelming them with questions and accepting the more than generous freebies on offer. She returned with catalogues full of bathrooms, kitchens and radiators describing them all to me as “amaaaaaazing”. On her way out that morning she called on the owners of a house she has watched being renovated over recent months as she drives by on her way to work and was finished in a style we like. “Hello, you don’t know me but I’ve driven past your house regularly and wondered who your builder was?” she opened with. “Do come in and have a look around” was the unsurprising reply. So she then rang their builder who, within a few hours, was calling on us. But he didn’t impress me. He was very quiet, asked very few questions and was gone within ten minutes. Being charmless doesn’t mean he’s a poor builder and the house that Marianna viewed proves that he isn’t but it left me feeling quite odd and that I’ve definitely had enough of interviewing builders.

Today Malcolm’s latest sketches of Martin's guttering arrived. They were quite literally free hand sketches. It’s at moments like this I wonder if Michael Pilkington would have sorted all of this out for us in a fraction of the time.

Freebies

The Home Improvement Show

It’s been a busy week but somehow I found the time to turn forty. I’d known this was going to happen on March 17th 2010 for some time but it still came as quite a shock. After working through Thursday night on a report and having ninety minutes sleep on Friday afternoon we went to see the thoroughly brilliant Dave Gorman. I saw a client this morning and then met Marianna at the NEC for the Home Improvement Show. You may wonder why we went and lesser people than you and I might struggle to see how it was different from the Grand Designs show we visited last year. It’s just that that’s what we do. We talk about windows and doors, bathrooms, types of tile, types of insulation, types of radiator, showers, our neighbour’s guttering, RSJ’s, the colour of kitchen units etc etc and then we go to these shows to talk about these things with other people. Doesn’t everyone? When I arrived at about 12.15 Marianna had already been there since the doors opened at ten but we managed to stay until after three. The first task for me, having risen early and missed an entire night’s sleep in the last three days, was to visit the canteen and re-energise myself with something involving pasta and spinach that looked like road kill. Then we explored the half of the exhibition that Marianna had thus far neglected. I think we more focused than at the Grand Designs show and largely sought to finally answer what we want our doors and window frames made from, what design of radiator we’d like and how we’d like to insulate the house. A man spoke to us at length about a type of insulation that is pumped into the walls. It was only at the end that he revealed that these would be false walls built onto our existing internal walls, thus shrinking the rooms. I think not. Martin is already trying to shrink my garage. I’m all for a well insulated house but God invented pullovers so I wouldn’t have to tolerate such nonsense as having false walls just for a little extra insulation. Some of those attending must have a different budget to me unless the people selling the £3000 garage door and the bath with the television that rises from the tap end made no sales at all. Marianna had clearly made an impression in the morning since every exhibitor that we spoke to that she had seen earlier in the day greeted her like an old friend before re-enacting their earlier conversation for my benefit. This exhibition lacked the genuine celebrities that Grand Designs had. It was Dancing on Ice compared to the Strictly Come Dancing of Grand Designs Live. When the lack of sleep was really getting the better of me we left and I went home for a late afternoon nap. That’s what people in their forties do.

The return of Mr Grey

A quote from T & J Grey just over 20% over our current budget. That's a lot of money. What has become of John Engand and Andy Graham who guaranteed to have a quote with us six days ago?

First Past The Post

We had our first quote arrive from Max At Signal Construction yesterday. It was 8.6% on top of the budget which was just fine for me. Next!