building work

Of Acrow Props And Potatoes: June Update

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I hadn’t actually asked the question, as in how many stages are involved when it comes to demolishing a section of load-bearing house wall. I suppose I had wondered how the two steel beams (inside and out) would be inserted in the sitting-room-kitchen wall. And logically I would have assessed that this must be done before the actual wall, window and door were knocked out.

I also knew that this would not happen until the new kitchen extension was nearing completion (several weeks away). In other words I had not prepared myself for a double dust-storm event, mostly because the chaps, as in other half and builder Alan, had given me only scant (evening before) warning of the beam insertion process.

But the dust!

It was all I could say when I learned what was planned. Alan raised his eyebrows – part apology, part goes-with-the-territory. Plastic sheeting was duly taped, floor to ceiling, across the back of the sitting-room and across  the ‘L’ of the kitchen. More sheets were thrown over all the furniture, doors that could be shut were shut, and then the hammering began – first the plaster, then the wall whose bricks, as bricks go, are strangely adamantine. It’s likely they were made just down the road, in the days when Bishops Castle had a  brickworks.

And so here we are, a week on, still dusting; an activity that will doubtless segue into demolition phase II sometime in August.

But at least the acrow props have gone now and the furniture is back where it was, also a critical factor in a small house where we presently have more stuff than rooms to put it.

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We’ve also been receiving deliveries  – the front garden now looking like a builders’ yard.

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One half has been commandeered for supplies, it being the most accessible space for unloading. But I’ve hung onto a small corner and put in some Gigantes butter beans and two yellow courgette plants, tucked in between the insulation boards and the front door. Well, can’t miss the planting season, can I. And that border is particularly sunny. I popped in some Korean mint (Agastache) too.

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As to the bed on the other side of the front path, I staked a claim back in April, so the roofers wouldn’t bury it in waste tiles. I’ve put in three small rows of potatoes – Rocket and Charlotte, which have sprouted well. There’s also the beginning of a herbaceous border under the sitting-room window: a lone delphinium accompanying some young alcalthaea plants (a cross between mallow and hollyhock), knautia and verbascum, blue geraniums and achillea, a purple toadflax with has turned out to be pale pink.

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Meanwhile out in the back garden, the lawn has been continuing to disappear. Most of the turves are in the compost bin which is now full. I’m now stacking the rest, leaving them to rot down.

The more I dig, the bolder the blackbirds become, nipping in around my feet. I watched one carefully gather a stash of worms on the lawn whence they could not easily escape. When the bird had a good beak full, off it went, doubtless to feed a fresh brood of nestlings.

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Much like the house, the garden is chaotic. Somewhere there’s a plan. For now, I’m simply pleased to have all kinds of kale, spinach and lettuce busily thriving. We’ve even had a handful of early purple sprouting. There are field beans forming at the top of the garden where the Romanesco caulis are growing ever more gigantic leaves, though no sign of flowers. There are tomato plants inside and outside the greenhouse. Strawberries are plumping up alongside cabbages, spring onions and Moroccan Cress, and the Emergo runner beans are looking pleasingly robust, though not yet climbing their sticks. In the interim, I have some rocket (arugula) growing mid-row. It needs thinning out.
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The horrid hedge still needs much work. I now see it’s full of sycamore and ash trees, some quite substantial, while the actual original hedge of holly, hawthorn, weigela and privet has been much mutilated by years of being squashed behind chicken wire and under great boughs of ivy. But that’s a job for autumn. I anyway think we’ll need a man with a chainsaw to cut it down to size so the lower quarters can regenerate. I’ve planted foxgloves to brighten up the bare patches.
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So here we are in June with thoughts of summer, thoughts being the operative word. For although the gardens around the town say it is summer, the weather says otherwise. All this week builder Alan has been complaining of the cold, resorting to his winter windproof jacket. We’ve been going around  wrapped up in sweaters, lighting the wood burner each evening. And for sure we’ve had some sunshine, but the wind has an icy edge, and it’s hard to escape it. Still, the spuds are looking good, and apart from the dust, there is much to be happy about.
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There Goes Our Roof…

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Yesterday, the specialist asbestos tile removing guys exposed the bones of our hundred year old roof. Today, all the wooden battens came down. We now have huge piles fore and aft, and Graham is painstakingly de-nailing and cutting them into kindling. (Some of you won’t be surprised.)

We were lucky with the weather, at least until late afternoon. And then the builders had to step on it. They only just managed to secure a tarpaulin sheet before the downpour happened. Today, they have worked doggedly through rain and perishing wind. (N.B. Global warming in NOT happening in Bishops Castle. Nor are we having any lamb weather to see out the March roaring lion).

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But we do have new battens for old. They’re holding down the roofing felt (there was none in the original roof). And of course plenty of insulation has gone in too. The only downside is all the hammering is not suiting the fragile plasterwork in bathroom and bedroom  ceilings. Much mortary fall out and a few cracks in some quarters (Another job then).

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And here we have sight of the next big job. Once the roof is done and the scaffolding down, it’s demolition conservatory time; this to be replaced by a properly insulated kitchen, built on the same footprint (single storey), but extending further along the back wall. Half of the rear house wall (furthest away from the present door) will be taken down, a supporting beam installed, so the new kitchen opens into our existing sitting room with its L-shaped galley kitchen. The latter will then become a utility room,  and open into an existing cloakroom (window just visible behind the blue fence, which also needs to go).

Meanwhile, our excellent builders have cleaned up all the surviving Welsh slate tiles from the front roof, and begun to rehang them. The gables, which were very fragile and uninsulated, have been reconstituted and will have leaded side panels. (Pity about the plastic windows. They’re early UPVC, and beginning to fail, so their days are also numbered).

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So there you have it: the Farrell plans for domestic chaos for months to come, and I haven’t even mentioned the work needed in the rest of the place. Because, after all, it is a modest little house, and until we have the new kitchen, we are in log-jam mode with the rest of it. A tad frustrating, but at least we have the trusty log burner to huddle round on these cold spring evenings, and by day, all the front windows face the morning sun, should it care to shine. And so, muddle and all, it feels like a happy house. Upwards and onwards…