Showing posts with label DIY. Show all posts
Showing posts with label DIY. Show all posts

Tuesday, 17 November 2009

Paint and hedgehogs...

Today was a momentous day in our house: the nursery is finally decorated and all finished. Curtains up, lamp shade changed, cot assembled, changing unit ready, walls painted, wallpaper border firmly stuck and tiny clothes hanging in the wardrobe. We went for a unisex woodland theme in the end. I love it - hedgehogs everywhere!


The Other Half even bought the hedgehog shaped rug I had been bleating on about for the last month.

It's all starting to feel very real and imminent. And with six and a bit weeks to go, I really should pack my hospital bag.

Just in case.

Thursday, 2 April 2009

Like that bit in Superman when the Hoover Dam bursts...

Back in early March, I somewhat stupidly wrote a post about how well our bathroom renovation seems to be going. What in the name of all that is good and holy was I thinking of?! I've cursed my house! Well, you might have gathered that things aren't in fact running smoothly at all. For starters, it's taken almost a month to reach a point that's somewhere near a finished product (and almost a month of strategically planning when is a safe time to nip for a wee amongst the building rubble that has taken over the place), and just when we thought everything was pretty much finished last night and therefore safe to turn the water back on...it turns out it wasn't. Oh no.

Water erupted from every possible mechanical orifice that it could. Like geysers, only colder. And indoors. The bathroom is flooded, and in turn - so is the kitchen as that's the room directly below the bathroom and the laws of gravity had to carry the water somewhere. Then, we tried turned the water off completely at the stopcock in the kitchen - alas, to no avail. It just kept turning! And water kept gushing! There's now a tidal wave downstairs being haphazardly collected by a bucket wedged under the leaking tap, while people who I hope know what they are doing are busy freezing pipes to replace the broken stopcock. And have dug up several floorboards in the process. Argh!

This has resulted in me having to work from home today in order to empty out the overflowing bucket of water from the busted pipe every twenty minutes - and an email of much ambiguity went around my colleagues proclaiming that I wasn't in the office today "due to plumbing problems". I foresee having to explain several times over tomorrow that this was not a euphemism. Sigh. I hope this is fixable sharpish. All I wanted was a working bathroom - that's not too much to ask for, is it?

Sunday, 8 March 2009

What's shakin' baby...

Things have been a tad hectic of late, so here's the craic from this week in easy-to-digest chunks:

The seven year itch?
Not a sign of it, huzzah! On Monday, The Other Half and I realised that it was 7 years to the day since we met. (Whilst very inebriated at a party.) Although not our 'official' anniversary (we started dating on St. Patrick's Day), we celebrated with homemade spicy Thai burgers. Well, why not?

The bathroom saga continues
By god, does it. Nothing is ever simple in our house - it's going to take a lot longer to finish than we all thought due to fiddly little jobs that are taking ages to do. The plus side is: we now have working lights in there, yessss! Now for the ceiling, the vanity unit and all the tiling and grouting...

Hospitals smell
The Other Half had his annual heart check-up at l'hopital on Thursday (hole in the heart baby with another weirdly named defect I can't remember how to spell). This was doubly good as they said all is well with him, and because I tagged along - this got me out of a hideous networking event with work. Groovy.

Birthdays times two
It was my Dad and his twin sister's birthday on Tuesday (happy birthday, Daddy) and last night there was a family get-together using the occasion as an excuse. (Not that they need one.) Thankfully this time, family members refrained from horrifying me with all-too-detailed tales about distant relatives' personal lives. And we had cake. Yum.

The wig hunt
Next week we're at a party for my friend's birthday (and a sort of housewarming in her new flat, too). The theme is Father Ted, probably the funniest show in the world ever bar none. I'm now rooting through all manner of junk in the house in an attempt to assemble costumes, but we still need to go on a wig hunt to replicate Father Jack's hair.

Monday, 2 March 2009

The bathroom blitz...

Groan. We’re doing our bathroom up. I say we – what I mean is, my Dad is the builder extraordinaire; my Uncle the electrician is (surprisingly enough) fitting the spotlights; The Other Half is the labourer and I am the on-call tea and biscuits girl. There have been the usual mishaps of things not fitting how they’re supposed to, missing parts, wonky fittings and damaged panels…but nothing compared to the chaos that would have ensued had The Other Half and I been left to our own devices.

In our previous abode (the little flat), we attempted to spruce the bathroom up ourselves with some new flooring. Only we had no money whatsoever so ended up with some delightful ‘tile effect’ lino. Lovely. For reasons unknown, we used the old carpet that was down (who has carpet in a bathroom, for goodness’ sake? It’s very, very wrong! It was glued up the bath panel and everything!) as a template to cut from, and forgot that the design would therefore be inverted. We ended up with a fetching gaping hole in the wrong place that had to be covered with a bath mat at all times to hide our mutual incapability with DIY.

Things could be worse. At least after this, we'll actually have a ceiling instead of gaping plasterboard holes, and fully functional lights instead of a lone dangling bulb with exposed cables. Still, having to strategically time going for a wee is not my thing, really. But it'll be worth it. I hope.

Sunday, 9 November 2008

I wish you hadn't told me that...

Today would have been a lazy Sunday - time to recover from the previous evening's escapades - had we not impulsively decided to redecorate the living room. More on that later. Anyway, I'm not recovering from last night in the alcohol sense (although there was alcohol involved, but mercifully my tongue was not loosened sufficiently by it to make a spectacle of myself), more recoiling in horror at what was disclosed to me. Things I will not repeat. Ever. Things people had no business telling me and I may well spend a lifetime trying to shake the imagery out of my head. You see, I attended a family party. Now, family parties can be civilised affairs. Admittedly, something will usually happen as most family get-togethers are celebratory situations. The drunken uncle at the wedding who insists you dance to Come on Eileen with him; the old Gran whose teeth fall out after too many sherries at the Christening; or whatever.

Last night's soiree started out civilised. Then the drinks flowed and I had nowhere to hide. It was a housewarming/birthday joint party and the first time many family members had all been in the same room for quite some time. Lots to catch up on. I just didn't expect to catch up in so much detail. I'm quite saddened that I've reached that certain age where the elders are comfortable to tell x-rated tales in front of me. I'd have preferred to remain an innocent. I don't mind hearing about a second cousin once removed who has left his wife, or the misdemeanours of another distant relative. However, the full graphic glory of said cousin's, er, marital relations and the carnal penchants of the another is something I need not know, thank you. And hearing my mother dearest and my aunt using profanities was something I was not at all prepared for. Good grief. They'd have washed my mouth out with soap had I used such language.

So, yes. Somewhat spontaneously, we've decided to decorate. And miracle of miracles, so far have agreed on everything straight up. Job one is re-hauling the lounge - painting the walls, new lamps, sofas - bells and whistles. This room was relatively untouched when we moved in, and it's high time we put our own stamp on things. We've been staring at white walls for over a year. The down side is DIY shops - soul sucking places. You may as well move into one when you're redecorating - you go to all the trouble of using paint charts and swatches and everything, get home and realise you've forgotten the brushes. I'm consequently going to be broke until about July now thanks to this home make-over, but at least my thoughts are occupied with paint colours instead of the disturbing images planted there by my kith and kin.

 
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