Shhh…look…just don’t jinx me by telling anyone. I don’t know quite how it happened…really I don’t. We have a….shhhh…great builder. Yep. They exist and they are right here in south London…shhh now. Don’t blab about it. Please. In case our stunning good fortune takes a hit.
It’s a family firm and they’ve got side return extensions and loft conversions in Victorian houses down pat. Slick?..I’ve never seen so slick…bam…bam…bam….remove old kitchen and save for re-use….dig, dig, dig…foundations…skip..portaloo….kanga the old wall but save the bricks… acro props up…10 mega steel joists rolled (like ancient stone megaliths) through the living room via the bay window…thermalite cavity wall and rockwool insulation…..first fix roof and studwork… get the lead man in for the box gutter. Carl the brickie….what can I say?….
There is something so, so pleasing about professionals working their magic. With their hands. Real work. Sooo reassuring. I can’t get away from the fact that working with buildings is my thing. It’s hands on. No computers, no financial derivatives. Husband would probably say that the financial system funds these projects. I guess so. But we do so little hands on…physically creating something out of nothing…making something better than it was before. To me, there is little more satisfying.
It’s Spring proper now and all the daffodils are poking their heads through the rubble. We still have a long way to go before we see the omelette, but the broken egg shells have been skipped now….so I’m just gonna shut up…and (i) watch these superb guys do their stuff from my cramped temporary kitchen-cum-office, (ii) make the tea and (iii) watch the great tits and magpies steal the mineral rockwool insulation for nest building….everyone’s just getting on with it….