What was that?
Fireworks dear go back to sleep
Are you sure?
So I got out of bed, put on my jeans and slippers and went into the lane-with-no-name. Flames, at least 10 foot high were licking the trees on the boundary of the Brierley Social Club and Mr Pritchards garden. Behind which 3 or 4 cars were parked! All of which were on fire and going POP with frightening regularity.
“What can you see?”
“Call the fire brigade!”
4am in the morning. The fire brigade are there now, the lane blocked at the top by a car, their access not thwarted because of the nature of hoses.
This is the fourth fire in as many weeks. Looks like Brierley has an arsonist.
So I get home from work and Mrs Gnomepants is there flapping. “Wazup” sez I
“Flud wer” sez I
“Flud there” sez her
I go into the kitchen (I live in Yorkshire, we enter houses here through the BACK door) and notice the wall under the electric meter is sodden. “O Noes” sez I “Best turn electric off”
On entering the bathroom (which is above the kitchen) I notice the carpet has been lifted and that the floorboards are sodden too. A tiny trickle of water issuing from a pipe which was connected to a radiator only 24hrs previous. So grabbing my spanner and using all the brute force I can muster (which isn’t very much because I am a bit weedy despite appearances) I try to tighten the nut from where the leak issues
It just spins round and round. I tighten it as best I can. Water is still weeweeing out of the pipe. An emergency plumber is called and the soonest they can get there is 2 hours. In two hours my house could be under water. So lifting the floorboards I assess the situation. Somehow I need to capture the water before it goes into the floor…..Then GCSE Physics kicked into gear! Capillary attraction!
Using a careful system of well angled weighted string and baking trays I create a system that requires the minimal effort to bail out.
Note the string going to the left of the picture. The drip travels down the string and into the baking tray.
Looking downward here. Note the careful system of trays used to collect drips during the emptying of the trays.
After further consideration a deeper container was located. Note the ingenious double line of string. This helps capture twice as much water and delivers it to the larger container.
The plumber arrived.
He took the piss out of my ingenuity.
He stopped the leak though.
One of the things that has been a bit of a bummer about moving to Yorkshire is the lack of non-wife interactivity.
No. This isnt about local politics.
My hands are still black with paint. I’ve scrubbed and scrubbed but still I look like I have some weird black spot disease.
On Sunday I painted the final bits of the replacement wood for the garage. I then turned my hand to painting gate posts. I even affixed a sign that said
Then in a weird bit of DIY Yin Yang I attempted to strip one of our lovely panelled doors. First I used a heat gun and a scraper. After much wood scorching and hallucinations brought on by pre-1960’s paint fumes (Who knew that little pixies lived in our barbecue? And why didn’t anyone tell me about the giraffe in the clematis?), half an hour and only a 7ft by 3inch strip of cleared door later I decided that much that I liked the feeling of levitating 10ft off the ground, it probably wasn’t doing my lungs any good.
So I switched.
To Nitromors Paint stripper. Just add man.
Thing is, stripping a door with chemicals doesn’t really do the plants much good and, Ok it gets rid of most of the paint, but some of the paint was industrial strength gloss that required about 540 coats of paint stripper.
4hrs and a tin of Nitromors later I’d managed to strip one side of the door.
I then made the unilateral decision that the doors would be taken away by a professional company and dipped.
Except it’s not.
It’s just sitting there, in the hallway waiting for either myself or Mrs Gnomepants to get a company round to do the sodding job.
Other jobs requiring tasking include:
- Finishing decorating and carpeting the front room
- Digging out the lane and building a retaining wall
- Working out how to fix new wood to rotten wood without making a pre-war garage collapse
- Plumbing in a washing machine to a place where there exists no water
- Preparing the spare room as an office for Mrs Gnomepants
- Having Parents round bank holiday weekend
Some pictures for you today.
This yellow stuff (rapeseed) seems to be everywhere in England (well in the parts I’ve been in the last 2 weeks at least) this year. It fucking stinks.
Looks pretty seeing farm buildings in a sea of yellow flower but it doesn’t half stink.
I suspect there is going to be a rise in the popularity of Biodiesel in the next few years. Or perhaps we are preparing for a national emergency.
And this is our new fireplace. The room in in the middle of being decorated at the moment. We dont always have a scruffy mass of sofas in our room.
Yes. Well a busy time last week. I only managed to get my WOW character to level 37, buy 6 pieces of custom cut wood, paint 6 pieces of custom cut wood, fix a sliding door, help bring in a new cast iron fireplace, photograph the local area, guide potential plumbers around the house showing them jobs that need to be done, visit my brother and his family camping in Tuxford, visit the wife’s old university pal Philip (formerly Philip-in-Brighton) and his new family, feed other peoples cats, dig a border, go on the piss all day with aladdin_sane and watch some crap TV. Some times there just isn’t enough time to do everything really is there?
Plans however for a further busy month ahead are in place and not “fun busy” either. I’m still in the “change now or stay the same” mode I was before the holiday. Of course, because Doctor Who is on telly again this means that every Saturday for the next 10 weeks every possible thing will happen to prevent me from being in front of the telly when it is broadcast. My social life will be inundated with visits from and to friends and relatives, giant radioactive wombles will eat my TV, I will be faced with urgent requests to hang pictures up on walls in remote parts of England where there is no television reception and coach loads of tourists will want to see the lamp post out side our house that survived the failed attempt at mating with a car. Believe it! Then after these following 10 weeks I shall return to the almost anonymous silence of Brierley. Awaiting the fourth series of Doctor Who and when my popularity arises mysteriously once more.