coming together and crashing apart

It has been a while since I last posted something. Unlike Ernest Hemingway, my life does not  revolve around siting at a typewriter by a window overlooking a bullfight. What with making 100s of nori rolls for my son's birthday party, keeping Victoria safe from problem gambling, cleaning the grouting in the shower, arguing with some stupid landlord about the need to replace his back fence, keeping my mother flush with cigarettes and pyjamas, working out at the gym to stop my bones thinning away to nothing and making sure my online scrabble average score doesn't fall below 60 per cent, there isn't that much time left.

Oh, and writing my novel. That's taken up a bit of time too. I know that EH would sympathise with this because sometimes he had to choose between drinking absinthe with Pablo and working out a way to save The Old Man and the Sea from turning into what we nowadays would call a Rex Hunt type adventure story. It's good he didn't always opt for the drink.

But finally, here I am tapping away and the renovation is finished. There's still a few things to do - new front fence, a sail to keep out the sun (not a major issue right now) and blinds.

 We've even got a sofa bed and a low lying lazy thing to put the television and audio system on.

As you can imagine, I was feeling pretty smug about things when my son rang me to tell me he had been in an accident. He wrote off his dad's car. He was fiddling with the radio dial when pulling out of a park and collected a taxi. Thank goodness he, his friend and everyone in the taxi were OK.

When he rang he put me onto the tow truck driver to sort out what to do with the car. In his mind, mum's can still do anything. At twenty-one my son is still so young.

The tow truck driver put me back onto my son. He told me that the passenger in the taxi was about eighty so he checked that she was all right and fetched a glass of water for her. I don't know where you get glasses of water from after car accidents. I guess he must be very resourceful.

..

Oodles of poodles

The floors are being polished, the insides painted and cupboards put in place - but I can't tell you what it looks like because we have been uprooted again.  This time for 10 days in glorious Alphington. The fun just never stops.

We are housesitting while J&P are in Hawaii.

For a while there we were house sharing as J&P had bought airfares so cheap they were indeed too good to be true and the airline, Australian Air, collapsed. P had left ahead of J so we spent a weekend with her before she got on her replacement return Qantas fare that sucked up all her frequent flyer points as well as some cash. P is coming back on Aloha airlines (or something like that) as part of an Hawaiin rescue package.

I've known J&P for over twenty years and when I lived in Alphington in the same street, was round there about twice a week - you know to borrow the lawn mower or to see if they had the missing ingredient for a curry I was half way through cooking. In all that time I never noticed how dark their place is.  It is very beautiful but there is lots of dark wood - furniture, architraves (yes I'm getting to know building jargon), mantlepieces and other features (there's a limit to the technical terms I can pour out).
Not only is it dark, but each room has a ten watt globe.

G and I have been sitting outside reading by the moonlight. This might sound romantic, but given the size of the garden and the warm evenings, we have to battle with mozzies. J&P have a stash of green mosquito coils and we are burning through them.

Then there are the poodles to contend with. P told me that I needed to understand that the dogs ruled everything.  He wasn't joking. The first night they kept diving on the bed, no matter how many times we threw them out.  However, fortunately they are scared of tall men. All Guy has to do is point towards the door and they're out.

Below is a photo is one of the dogs after she saw J's itinerary and realised how long she had to wait until she could sleep on a proper bed again.

We're also keeping very calm.  Both dogs can get excited about just about anything and nearly jump out of their black curly skins when we do something remotely interesting - like stand up or sit down.

But I haven't spent all my time in the house. Out and about in downtown Fairfield I walked past the back of a Vietnamese restaurant. At first my eyes were drawn to a maze of wiring - a bit like crazed black hokien noodles- but dangerou. Then I noticed the little shrine on top of the grafiittied hot water service. It had little blue plastic containers of rice, and an offering of fruit to the God, Vulcan. Very steamy, very Asian atmosphere.

Other homes

Dear Lord, it's been nearly a month since my last post. How time has flown.

P told us that we had to get out for a few days while they took out the wall between the living room and the kitchen. So we packed up the kitchen and the bathroom and the living room in prepration for the dust deluge.

Just before we left, P said we'd be happier if we stayed away for a week. However, we wouldn't have to move out again.

So we spent my summer leave at J's place in West Heidelberg looking after Black Otter the rabbit and Sushi the cat while J sweltered in a tin shed on his newly aquired land in countryVictoria. We luxuriated in his large back yard crammed with fruit trees and fat, relaxed parrots and magpies burping and basking in the dappled light. I managed to nick a handful of grapes before these self-satisfied loafers had a go, but had no luck elswhere. Every ripening apricot, peach and nectarine bore their marker.

I rang P, as arranged, on the Saturday to see how things were going.  Things were going well, but we'd be happier if we stayed away another three days.

When we got back the place looked great. So much roomier without the wall. However, we couldn't find anything because we couldn't remember what was in what box and what box was in what room.

We ate out or ordered in out until our collective memory of the condiments returned.

As I peeled back the lid of another mediterranean gourmet pizza, my mobile rang. I retrieved it from under a jar of cumin just before it went to voicemail. It was M, one of the owners of Mum's nursing home telling me that Mum's behaviour had become less manageable.

When she is outside chain smoking, she calls out to people walking down the lane to come on in. The type of people likely to respond to a toothless woman in a wheelchair with a rasta cap over long tangled grey hair are precisely the type you don't want to let inside a nursing home. When she gets anyone in the yard, she then gives them the security code and encourages them to visit.

Hence there are a number of what I have been told are undesirables paying visits.

M described in detail a large islander male covered in tattoos and wearing flourescent orange overalls paying his respects in the wee hours. I thought being an islander had nothing to do with being an undesirable, but I kept quiet as I could hear that M was on a roll.

Although M was at pains to tell me that she does not know what marijuana smells like, she believes that Mum is smoking this substance down the back lane with some of her newly acquired friends.
She is also ramming her wheelchair into walls, causing quite a bit of damage to her room and the hallways, constantly thumps on windows to either go in or go out and yells out 'Lezo' as her way of greeting other women.

Some of the residents are becoming a bit nervy around her.

At the end of the little speech I commented hopefully that things seemed pretty much as usual.
No, M responded. She now behaves badly for ALL her waking hours
Oh well. I said I'd drop off some cigarettes (she's smokes the illegal chop chop variety to make the pension go further) and ring on Monday.

We've worked out our colours for the outside and inside of the house and bought the lights we couldn't get on ebay at Schots.

Yesterday V the renderer spent all Saturday rendering the outside walls. The whole thing is coming together quite quickly now.
P has told us that we need to get out for five days - just so the floors can be polished and the inside painted. A friend is going away for ten days so we'll housesit and look after the dogs.
P said that he'd hoped for longer but thought he could squeeze everything in, inside of 10 days.

Light and shade

The down tool phase has been an opportunity to squirrel away some light fittings.  The house is  awash with Italianate brass sprouting waterfalls of etched plastic shades. There are two exceptions - the study with a bare globe and the living room which has the crowning glory - a plastic chandelier.  It has been hung too low and Guy is always getting caught up in the multi-faceted dusty drops.

I've been to a few lighting shops.

Some of the things I've seen makes the current brass look  downright homey. There are lights with so many arms on them, they could only be put up in something the size of the main hall at Montsalvat.

 

There were also birds nests

and things to hang up when you're finished catching crayfish for the day.

That's way we turned to good old Ebay for  shopping.

Here are our buys to date.

The first light is for the hallway and comes with a chrome pole. I just have to make sure it's not too long on account of Guy's head.

Then we come to the second light which is even more beautiful than the photo.  That will also go in the hallway.

 

 The third and final light will probably go into the bedroom. Of course we are still a few lights short.
There is no light for the new room, the living room, the study or the little alcove before you get to the new room.

Yes, even on Ebay people seem to be getting rid of things that are absolutely terrible. Ebayers use the word vintage because it sounds better than demented macrame - See fantasy in red below.

 They also like to push their chandeliers.  I never knew chandies were so popular.  Note the blue plush in background in example above.

Of course there's also those ebayers who had their first trip to Asia and returned with local ware. Once back to their non-stoned selves, they realise  they've bought things that will never even cast enough light to roll a joint - and of course put them up on ebay.

On Thursday we are heading out to stay at a friend's place while the brick wall between the living room and kitchen is taken out.
So there's a bit of furniture moving required before we leave.

Roof ready for Dec 25

It poured with rain again last Saturday night but with four solid walls and a roof we wern't worried about the state of the new room.  It was all water tight.

Unfortunately, the same could not be said for the rest of the house. We were just settling down to sleep when the water started dripping onto the bed from the ceiling.  We turned on the light and put on our glasses to see a rust coloured line, bearing beads of water, forming on the perfect alabaster white ceiling. I leapt up to get a towel and a bucket and arranged them down one side of the bed.  Of course, there was no getting back to sleep. The soothing pitter patter of rain on the roof was translating to an unsettling drip drip into the bucket and my mind went on an all night wander.

I've slept in tents in pouring rain that were water tight, so how can water get through a newly tiled roof? This, plus naming all seven dwarfs, wondering where the scones I purchased but never made it into the house got to, and trying to work out why the builder asked us to purchase two lengths of granite when we only needed one bench top, meant I was wide awake.

It did stop raining, the dripping stopped and we did get to sleep eventually.  However, I wasn't up for much the next day.  I did a spot of weeding and found my car keys. Why I had decided to turf my car keys in the garden is anyone's guess. Thinking I might be on a roll, I kept up the hunt, hoping I might find some soggy scones - but to no avail. I'll probably find them in a month's time covered in mould.

The next day A the plumber turned up to do some more work on the new roof. I hadn't met him before, so we shook hands and I immediately re-directed him up onto the leaky tiled roof

In no time at all he had it fixed the problems down in the valley. Now it should be able to carry the weight of any type of sleigh or reindeer that happens to drop by.  I've got A's business card by the phone just in case.

S was here for a few days and got the new room lock up stage - well almost. The external doors and windows are in place but there is one pane of glass missing from the sliding door.  This is for the dog door -The very first thing that we planned.  There is some sort of problem with getting the dog door in the pane of glass. I'm sure we'll find out more about this in the New Year.

In the meantime we'll be shopping for lighting and working out the colour scheme.

I'll keep your posted.
Merry Christmas

Talkin' 'bout our renovation

There was a bit of a frenzy putting in the plasterboard and the planky stuff on outside wall, but now things have gone quiet for a while. P  headed off up the coast on Thursday for a surfing trip with his son and sidekick S has taken a few days off. There was no friendly click of the sidegate on Friday morning and nothing new to come home to on Friday night.

As you can see we've taken a bit of time out too, to do some washing.

However, we can't sit on our laurels for too long. P has left us with a list of things to do in his absence - choose colour scheme and lighting, order shower base and bench top; decide on shed roof overhang and where any new internal power points are to go; figure out the configuation of steps from paving to ground. The list is a photocopy so he can check up on us, I guess. Nothing is left to chance.


Of course we are now quite good at all this sort of decision making.  We've worked out the best spots for power points in the new room; bought second hand doors and very expensive door jewellery; and chosen tiles for the shower and timber for the floor. Nearly everything comes from Cochranes Road.

I'd never heard of Cochranes Road Moorabbin six weeks ago. Now I can drive there and back on auto pilot.  It is a street filled with warehouses of tiles, everything door - doors, security screens, knobs, handles and locks, windows, bathroom fittings, flooring, furniture, laminex and granite, and even muscle cars to match your newly renovated house.  If there's still anything you can't find, there's a Bunnings at the very end - big enough to have its own postcode.

Even though things have been going exceptionally well, deep down it must be causing me stress. This week I managed to lose my keys plus the spare car key all in one go. I finally found the spare car key but the main set of keys are still walkabout.

Just as well I found the spare .  It was going to cost $268 to get a locksmith out to cut another one - and that was with the RACV rebate.  Now I can spend the money on a light fitting instead.

one stirrup and three bottles

The building work has now been in progress for about one month and 110 millimetres of rain. Despite the weather setbacks, the new room is close to lock up.  The frame is in place and the roof is nearly finished; part of the neighbour’s fence has been pulled down and now forms a side wall to the room; and the doors we bought from a grumpy man in the second hand warehouse are arrived yesterday for installation.

The new sliding doors are in place as well as the feature window - well almost.  The architect designed the room on a beautiful angle.  However, as wind-out windows don’t wind out on an angle they hit the frame of the house.  This requires a bit of further thought. I can see P loves artistic architectural touches.

P has also dug up a stirrup.  How it got there is a mystery. Maybe someone was using a stirrup instead of a ring in a game of quoits , hurled it and never picked it up again – and then buried it because they couldn’t be bothered taking it inside. Kids!

Or maybe there used to be a horse attached to it but it rotted away over the years. But of course that doesn’t explain why there is only one stirrup. I discussed possibilities with P but he didn’t seem interested in solving the mystery. He is more interested in solving the mystery of architects.

It all fell into place when I realised that P had dug up more hidden treasure without bothering to tell me. There were three old bottles down the side path - two little medicine bottles and a bottle with the word s "almond cream" and stamped" made in the United States of America".

You’ve probably worked it out already, but I’ll go through it anyway.

Given this is Caulfield there have always been lots of horses around – even more in the olden days before there were so many cars. Anyway one day a horse, sick of clopping round the nearby racehorse, tore off down Queens Avenue after someone left the wrought iron gate open.  On exiting, one of the horse’s stirrups got caught in the gate and came off. The horse careered down Clifton Street and into our street. 

Somehow it ended up going down our side path into the backyard.  In its terror at being caught in a small confined spot, the horse reared up in panic a few times and then came down heavily on the concrete breaking its leg. You can imagine the shock this must have caused the former jockey who lived in our house. Forced into an early retirement after arthritis set in, he gingerly made his way outside to see what all the palaver was about.

Of course he had  empathy with horses – creatures that not so long ago shared most of his waking hours. He tried to ease the pain and distress by administering his two bottles of painkillers.  He also rubbed in some of his special cream bought in the States when he accompanied the doomed Phar Lap. Even though the former jockey had the best of intentions, there was no way that painkillers for arthritis and almond cream were going to be much help.

The horse died and because it is too hard to cart a dead horse away, kindly neighbours came over to help bury it.  Only the stirrup and empty bottles remain to tell the story.  I should have been an archaeologist. 

Of course this doesn’t explain what happened to the saddle the horse would have been wearing. Well, the jockey probably sold the saddle because it was worth something and he no longer had a steady income.

None of this solves the window problem.  I wonder if the builder will manage to solve it or if the price of cutting edge architecture is to stifle while admiring a beautifully angled wall.

...oh and here's a few shots of our extension so far.