Tag: DIY

Saturday: progress made

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I was banished from the kitchen yesterday so Barry could do some work with his earphones in and I wouldn’t get in the way.  I felt like a bit of a spare part, but I sneaked in every now and again to take some photos and then run away.

The oven is steadily making its way to the middle of the space.  Barry’s also put it up on blocks so that it’ll be the same height as the work surface will be when that goes on.

We’re hoping to affix the plinth in some way along the bottom of the oven – we don’t want to be able to see this!

In other news, Barry’s swapped the broken radiator for the new one,

which hopefully won’t leak, and gone over the black paint that was already on that wall, as well as painting behind the radiator.

Hopefully, today we’ll get some more handles on the bottom units, although I’ve woken up early and it’s a lovely day, so we might actually need to go and get some Vitamin D.

The joiner also comes today, so we should finally have a date and proper price for sorting the worktop out.  Sink, ahoy!

Now I know where/when home is

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I had a few responses, on here, in person, and on facebook, to the Home is where…? post.

Barry, for one, would like to clarify that when he says he is going home to Northern Ireland, he means the country, but when he’s coming back here, home means our house specifically.

My friend Bryonie, who recently moved to Australia, said she’s not sure where home is now.  But she also introduced me to an expression I hadn’t heard before: you can be homesick for a time, not a place.  I kind of like this because it’s true, but it’s also sad because it’s not something you can ever get back.  Perhaps the fact that I’d like to return to Howden, where my heart is, is just me longing for my childhood.

Ready for the weekend

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I’m so ready for this weekend. We’re not doing anything special, it’s just two days of being at home.

The plan for this weekend’s DIY is for Barry to sort out the gas and electricity points for the oven, and build up the legs of the oven so it meets the same point as the worktop. The joiner is coming on Sunday to tell us how much he thinks cutting the worktop will be, and Barry might ask about a couple of other things, like making the boiler cupboard.

On the eBay front, our kitchen hasn’t been collected yet. Despite the listing clearly stating collection only, she asked if we could deliver. No. There’s a 3m worktop in there! She got a bit huffy and said she’d have to book a man with a van. Go do that then. I contacted the woman again to see when this may be (a, we need the space, and b, we need the money); it will be either this weekend or next Wednesday. Helpful.

Home is where…?

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According to the adage, home is where the heart is. But can your heart be in more than one place at once?

I was born in Aldershot, but only have hazy memories of the place. After moving around the area for a few years (my parents had various pubs), we moved to Howden for good when I was five. Howden’s a village in East Yorkshire where my mum grew up and my maternal grandparents still live. Although we moved to the neighbouring town of Goole on my tenth birthday, my heart stayed in Howden, and it’s always where I tell people I’m originally from.

Barry’s from Northern Ireland, and if we’re going back there, he says he’s going home (but then he also says we’re going home on the way back!).

Does it have something to do with the house in which you grew up? I was studying abroad when my parents sold the house in Goole, and felt untethered since then really: it’s no longer my home. I suppose when you have children, you truly make a home of your own and hope that they always regard it as such.

Now we live in a village in the suburbs of Bradford, but if we’re abroad we say “near Leeds”. Naughty, I know, but we’re between the two cities so I think we get away with it. I took this photo of Bradford city hall last week, and it actually looks great.

But is it where my heart is? I can’t imagine growing old here. If work wasn’t an issue (i.e., if we won the lottery), I’d move straight back to East Yorkshire – Howden if possible! Barry can come too, if he wants.

Decorator’s block

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Although this sounds like some kind of tool (let’s face it, it could be), by decorator’s block I mean the point at which you’ve had enough.

Barry’s been at it for over a month now, between the living room and the kitchen, and it looks like he’s close to having enough. It’s hard when you’re busy with a full-time job, to then come home and spend evenings and weekends doing DIY or decorating.

We’re so near the home straight now for the kitchen, we just need the joiner booking to give us a target for the few things that need doing before then.

Dressing up redux

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On the ongoing dressing table front, I’ve had a brainwave. I was firstly thinking that the black units we have in the lounge could go into our bedroom. We are already thinking of having black skirting boards, so it would pick up that theme.

I only have an old photo to hand, but what’s pictured is two units next to each other (with one stood up on its end). If you look at the unit under the TV, I was wondering if we could remove the four squares in the centre of the block of eight and make it into a dressing table with two holes at either side, holding up the top. I could then get drawers or cupboards for those – we’d need to get rid of the red drawers though, they wouldn’t go.

That would save us having to buy a dressing table, and I would have space to put all my stuff!

Black as night

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I’m off work today to wait in for a B&Q delivery (allegedly this should be the last).

This weekend, we took a deep breath and did it – we’ve painted most of the west wall in the kitchen black!  We decided against painting it with chalkboard paint, although looking at it, it’s probably the same stuff anyway.  Still need to do the edges but the majority’s done.

Barry’s also put the splashback under the cooker hood and built the unit that goes on the other side.

We also visited my ex-uncle this weekend with his broken and new sanders.  He was lovely about it and said we shouldn’t have, and there was much merriment about lending us tools that were on their way out!

Barry’s got lots of fiddly things to do now in the kitchen, like fixing the electric plug and gas hose behind the oven, starting to build a cupboard for the boiler, and then putting handles on all of the purple doors and drawers.  He’s going to ring the joiner this week as well; I cannot wait for the sink to be sorted!

Drumroll please

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The auctions have ended; the bids have been counted and verified (drumroll please)… we have a dazzling £343 from our old kitchen to spend on the new!  Note to self: never bin anything again ever.

It’s so much more than we were expecting that we don’t know what to do with it (don’t worry, it will be spent!).  The joiner is the first item on the list, and then I suppose the rest may go to flooring (or lights/tumble dryer/coffee machine/mixer/photo frames for the living room/yesterday’s hair cut/anniversary meal).

The lady wanted us to deliver, but we don’t have the facilities to transport 3m long worktops, etc., so she’s going to have to book a man with a van.  Hopefully she’ll sort it this week so we can carry on painting.

As I already mentioned, yesterday was our fifth wedding anniversary, and so we had to get wooden gifts.

Panicking in Boots, I originally bought Barry a wooden Botanics nailbrush, but then had a proper think about it and bought him some of his favourite aftershave ever – Marc Jacobs Men.  He hasn’t had any in ages and it has (wait for it) top notes of cypress and base notes of cedarwood.  I am the master.

Although Royal Mail are currently holding Barry’s gift to me hostage, he’s shown me a photo of what I can expect – it’s this lovely wooden jewellery box.  I’m looking forward to receiving it!

A brief history of abodes

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Today marks our fifth wedding anniversary – happy anniversary, honey!

We’ve actually been together more than ten years, since university, when our only source of decoration in the halls was books (his, sciences, mine, languages), posters (his, the tennis player with her bum out, mine, more embarrassingly, the Backstreet Boys) and interesting rugs (his, ratty strips of woven cloth, mine, a fluffy pink heart made of a wandering fibre that ended up on everything I owned).

We then moved to a shared house, where we had the whole top floor which had recently been renovated. Again, we had no power over what it looked like and function and utility reigned over beauty. The only painting Barry did was the bathroom ceiling, in a paint that just wouldn’t stick and turned out to have sand in it for some reason. It all peeled off.

In our third year, he worked in Peterborough while I lived in Spain and France. Spain was your typical apartment with tiled floors and airless rooms (pictured). My entire flat in France was smaller than our current bedroom. In the fourth year, we returned to (fancier) halls, in which I don’t think we even had posters or rugs.


At the end of that year, finally, we rented a house together just outside of the city which had a bit of character. The living room was on the third floor – very topsy turvy! The kitchen worktop had to be oiled regularly – I think Barry’s looking forward to doing that again. The bathroom was a horrendous aquamarine when we moved in, but we asked if we could paint it white and we were allowed.

The first house we bought was another magnolia kingdom. The couple we bought it from had lived in it for a few years and never done anything with it. Ha! we thought. Lazy buggers! We ended up painting this strip in the lounge a purply-chocolate colour, one wall in our bedroom green, a wall in our spare bedroom red, and the bathroom pink. Thus endeth our decorating of the first house.

Our current house is our second, and we nagged Barratt’s to death to get a cheaper price for it. It can be done! All of a sudden, the market will crash, and they won’t be able to give you it fast enough. That’s what happened to us, anyway. We ended up getting it for £25k less than next door, whose house is a mirror image of ours.

We fell in love immediately with the top floor when we saw the show home. It consists of our bedroom, a dressing room/nursery and ensuite. Light streams from opposite sides of the house and it feels huge and airy. The whole of the show home was very black and silver, but it did give us some excellent ideas, even if it’s taking until now to implement them (like black walls up the stairs).

As I’ve mentioned before, we’d love to have built in wardrobes, but they cost an arm and a leg. In fact, I’m not sure my arm and leg would cover the cost.

I was talking to Jules about house blindness (after the carpet discussion), and we’ve decided that once you’ve been in for a while, you just don’t see “it” any more. “It” can be the bland walls you see past, the nail pops you choose to ignore, the hideous (sorry, vintage) carpet you no longer look at. We’d been “planning” to decorate for some time before we actually started this January, but it took a shock this Christmas to actually make us get up and do something, because we needed a project to keep our minds off things.

As my friend Michelle says (and no, I’m not talking about myself in the third person), you always need a project.

Addict

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Hi, everyone. My names Michelle, and I’m addicted to eBay.

Specifically, selling our old kitchen on eBay. It doesn’t help that my iPhone alerts me every time I receive a bid – I can’t wait to see what items have shot up to. Barry’s been in London all week, and the only news I have to share is the current price of our three items and what the latest stupid questions I’ve been asked are.

I’ve been asked several times to stop the auctions and sell outside eBay, to which I respond with a polite, but firm, no. The worst one I’ve had so far was the gentleman (I use that word in the loosest sense) who insisted £40 for my oven was a good offer and I should just take it, two days after the listing started. At the time of writing, it’s already reached £112. I did have an enquiry from a lady who wanted all three items, which was unfortunate as bidding had already started, but all I could suggest was that she bid on them all.

I found myself writing strange clauses into the listings. “Please bring correct change” is one that springs to mind. The guy who came for the doors ended up owing something odd like £3.56, and brought a £20 note. We didn’t have any change, and Barry was about to just give him the doors. I suggested the man go to the shop for change and hissed at Barry that we were getting charged selling fees, so the buyer would definitely have to pay!

eBay also tells you off if you write the words “don’t bid unless…” because you’re not supposed to put people off bidding. Personally, I think “don’t bid unless you can put this kitchen back together from the photos shown as no instructions are provided” is an acceptable clause.

They all finish tomorrow, and we’ve had much more interest than we thought for the items – our main goal was to clear out the old so we could see the new, but at this rate it will pay off a hefty chunk of the joiner’s bill as well.