What a wopper!

The shed has arrived, and it is quite big.

The home stretch

Ever since my days working at a construction company, which closed for two weeks of Christmas, the thought of working between Christmas and New Year has been an anathema for me, so I find myself in the final week before some well-deserved time off. 

To be honest, the construction company spoilt me, as the truth is that my three to four days of holiday usually get me much less than two weeks.  This year I get nine days off, which is really just a week off with a weekend each end, but let's not split the cracker before the turkey is basted.

This final week will be pretty busy, since it makes sense for everyone if I can close down as many actions as possible before the break, since a week off and as many mince pies as I can eat will rot even the most sturdy of brains down to something resembling mince pie filling.  The trick is of course to write down last thing Friday everything I will need to do for the first couple of days back at work.  If only I didn't also lose the power to read, they would come in very useful.

Other news in the Scobi household is that the weather is getting right on my wotsits.  I am meant to be having a new shed erected Tuesday, something I will chase today to see the likelihood of it actually happening.  I would also desperately like to be giving my new door frame an undercoat, and making good the render on the outside, but both activities really need to be done in temperatures ten degrees centigrade or higher, and the prospect of the thermometer reaching that heady number are about as likely as the trains running on time.

Finally, spare a thought for my relics.  They flew from Spain (twenty degrees, rained twice last month) to the UK (minus wotever, snowing constantly) last Tuesday, having had to re-arrange their flight from two weeks earlier, which was cancelled due to snow.  They were due to return on Saturday, so on Friday night they stayed at a Gatwick hotel ready for their 0620 flight Saturday morning.  They were on the Easyjet plane, but due to the cold, the rear doors could not be fully closed, and by the time the engineers had finished their full English and attended to said door, the snow was thickly falling and they were returned to the terminal.  They bought a flight from Monarch, and got to 1800 hours before being told the flight was going nowhere, to arrive back home at 2330 hours.  The next Easyjet flight is not until Christmas Eve, so they have gone Monarch whose prices have mysteriously doubled in the intervening day, for this coming Tuesday.  Let's hope the snow stays away and the airport schedule returns to something like normal so their low-priority flight can get off the ground.  Needless to say they may well not come back to the UK half way through their six months next year.

It's snowing

As I sit here, with both maggots ill since the previous day, and the prospect of a very long day, I stare out on to a very white vista.  The snow is about 3 inches thick and falling fast, so I think we can expect to be stuck in all day.  I fear a severe bout of cabin fever.  We are invited to a party tonight, and the maggots were meant to be having a sleep-over at the outlaws, but with illness and snow thwarting our plans, the cabin fever may well extend long in to the evening.

And now, the time is near...

It is Friday afternoon, and I am "attending" a weekly review call that requires about 15% attention, thus leaving me with 85% to put to blog writing. 

My business life is full of TLAs (three letter abbreviations), and just a random selection from my current call:

• SLA
• GDF
• MTD
• RAG

There were others but, to be honest, I dozed off, so the only SLAs were ZZZ. 

Did you hear the one about....?

Gnome: Doctor, Doctor! I keep seeing pink and green spots in front of my eyes!
Doctor: Good gracious! Have you seen an optician?
Gnome: No... just pink and green spots!
Doctor: I mean, have you ever had your eyes checked?
Gnome: No. They've always been blue!

To be honest, it could have been worse.  Google returned 24.8 million hits for "Christmas Jokes" and, as a social experiment, I decided to go to the last page, and find the last joke on that page.  And here it is.

Not long ago and far away, Santa was getting ready for his annual trip...but there were problems everywhere.
Four of his elves were sick, and the trainee elves did not produce the toys as fast as the regular ones so Santa was beginning to feel the pressure of being behind schedule.

Then Mrs. Claus told Santa that her mom was coming to visit. This stressed Santa even more. When he went to harness the reindeer, he found that three of them were about to give birth and two had jumped the fence and were out, heaven knows where. More Stress. Then when he began to load the sleigh, one of the boards cracked and the toy bag fell to the ground and scattered the toys. So, frustrated, Santa went into the house for a cup of coffee and a shot of whiskey. When he went to the cupboard, he found the elves had hidden the liquor and there was nothing to drink. In his frustration, he dropped the coffee pot and it broke into hundreds of little pieces all over the he kitchen floor.

He went to get the broom and found that mice had eaten the straw it was made from.

Just then the doorbell rang and Santa cussed on his way to the door. He opened the door and there was a little angel with a great big Christmas tree. The angel said: "Where would you like to put this tree Santa?"

And that my friends, is how the little angel came to be on top of the Christmas tree.

What do you think?  Is that 24.8 million times worse than the first?  Answers via the comments, usual rules apply.   

It's all downhill from here

Since we are entering the season of televisual repeats, I fet it appropriate and easier to reuse a previous title for this blog.  But it does perfectly describe how Wednesday fits in to the working week; either the peak or the trough, depending on whether your glass is half full, half empty or you ordered it with a burger.  This does of course assume you are a five-day-a-week kind of chap (or chapess).  You may of course be a shift-worker, run a different on/off work routine (you know, the seven days on, three days off type of thing), or simply enjoy working at the weekends.  If you are any of these types of chaps (or chapesses), then please invent your own analogy for what Wednesday is in your routine.  Maybe send me a comment via the blog with your ideas.  Usual rules apply*.

Anyway, I am in the office four days this week, which means near enough four hour return trip, what with the weather and the traffic and all that.  This does wear me out slowly, but I do help make the journeys less boring with some interesting audio company.  Last week I was kept company by a number of podcasts on the old iWotsit, which included the Friday Night Comedy (Radio 4 I'm afraid), Mark Kermode and Simon Mayo's film review (five stars) and also, as a one off (or five off to be precise) the short-listed stories in the BBC National Short Story Award.  I have to say I enjoyed two of them greatly.  The art is in the fact that you need to have characterisation and story in a very short format, and that does tend to separate the men from the boys (or the women from the girls).  My two favourites were:

• My Daughter the Racist by Helen Oyeyemi
• Butcher's Perfume by Sarah Hall

I urge you to download all and make your own decisions.  Needless to say that the first and second prize went to two of the others, and on reflection, I quite liked both of those as well, but would have placed them below both of the above.

That's the problem with me and my book taste.  I like what I like and it tends to be a little bit lower brow than the stuff that really gets acclaim.  My sister is a librarian and an avid reader, and she often recommends books to me and, sadly, I rarely enjoy them as much as my own books.  And I know that on any absolute level (if such a thing exists), the books my sister recommends are "better" than those I enjoy, but then books are art, and art is subjective, so hey ho it's off to work we go.  At least that's what it says in the book I am reading right now**.

Also need to say thank you to Brad and Angelina.  We visited them at the weekend and had a lovely time.  It had meant to be a meet up with other friends also, whose aliases I have sadly forgotten, so let's call them Charles and Nigella, but C&N were both very ill, so it ended up being just the four of us, plus two maggots each.  The maggots disappeared upstairs, only to reappear for food, and to do their latest show, which, thanks to a CBBC show, was a magic show this time round.  The show followed the usual routine, with Brad and Angelina's maggot 1 compering the show, and generally acting as the glue to hold it all together, with various sets done by each of the children, except for the two youngest who, at the last minute, decide they don't want to do their slot after all.  I have to say, I really have no idea how they did it. 

I hope your week is going well.  Let's catch up before the weekend.

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* No swearing, don't let the truth stand in the way of a good story, just because you can doesn't mean you should (I am talking to the Labrador in the pub on Sunday when I say this), and there are two S's in to$$er.

** Actually, I am reading a thriller right now, but, as we often say, never let the truth stand in the way of a good story.  Have I said that already?

Pot holing

I do do some silly things.  For some things that end up being silly, the thinking on it started nano seconds before, and some have had hours of thinking time and months of planning, but still end up silly.

My pot-holing experience is definitely in the latter category.  Much research was done, interstitial moisture control, permeable membranes, thermal coefficients and getting my head round the building principles at the turn of the century have all had to be mastered in pursuit of my dream.  This dream involves insulating my downstairs floor.  It is stripped floor boards and, in my opinion, absolutely beautiful, however it does have one flaw.  The suspended floor includes air flow from the air bricks spaced around the building just above ground level, the purpose of which is, for those yet to Google such subjects, to ensure an airflow in the space below, which ensures that moisture does not linger on any of the wooden surfaces.  Further, the end of the beams rest on a small wall a few inches from the outside wall, and their ends also stop a few inches from the outside wall, just to ensure that it is not in contact with said wall, which may, especially in a solid wall building, present a certain level of moisture to the inside surface.  Ditto for the beam that runs parallel to the outside wall, it too is a few inches from the wall.

So, this is a well designed and simple system for maintaining structural integrity in the under floor space.  It also presents a cold draft to any crack or gap in the floor.

Any attempt to insulate must observe the basic laws on which the building was made, and this has meant some pretty specific design.  I have used lambswool insulation, which is all very eco, albeit that some people suggest that the existence of sheep is carbon negative, but I didn't go there.  The main characteristic of lambs wool is that it can absorb water and let water disperse without affecting its thermal efficiency.  Combine this with a permeable membrane and you have something that insulates and stops the drafts, but also allows moisture to move.  i.e. it won't act like a plastic bag and trap moisture, which is the devil for the wooden suspended floor.

I also need to ensure that the insulation does not bridge the gap between the outer wall and the beams.

So, that is the science.  The method of installation is where the blog title comes in.  There are a couple of ways of retro-fitting this stuff, either to lift all the boards and do it from above, or lift a couple, crawl down in to the space and do it from below.  I picked the latter option.  This meant crawling down under the floor in a space the height of the bottom of my kneecap, lying on my back to lift in insulation, then fix it in place with a sheet of permeable membrane.  Dust?  Never seen anything like it, and the whole downstairs was covered in a thin layer.

The space is basically split in to four quadrants.  There is a wall which would have supported the wall between the two rooms (long since knocked in to one), and there is also a wall that runs front to back that supports the beams half way across.  This is half way across the whole space, which includes the hallway, so appears to be off-centre for the room itself.  I did quadrant one on Friday night.  I started on quadrant two Saturday morning, but as I exposed and inspected the space, I noticed that the wall between the rooms stops at the doorway, which means that there is a hall-width space in the wall which enables me to get to quadrant three also.  This makes me happy and sad.  Happy because I can do two quadrants with one lift of boards, but sad because it really is a long way to crawl, probably five metres or so, and for a man who is very slightly claustrophobic, a bit daunting.  Nevertheless, I have finished quadrant two and three, and just need to do quadrant four, probably Friday evening.
I also need to revisit the other quadrants because I have made one mistake in my planning.  At the ends of the beam runs, I had imagined the insulation would have blocked the draft, but in fact it is still getting through, which means that the thermal efficiency is being severely impacted - moving air is not good for insulation.  So I am intending to experiment with a small square put on the end of each run, to effectively make the insulation and membrane installation an air-tight lump on the underside of the boards, but not touching the outside wall in any way.  Don't get me wrong, the room is much warming as a result of what I have done, but unfortunately the fact there is air movement will bug me for ever more, so assuming my plan works, I will need to retrofit it to the quadrants already done, since a couple of hours doing that saves years of "what if" nagging thoughts.

Other than that, I am off to the back man today, my first visit, to see if he can do anything about my various back issues.  He comes highly recommended by a friend who works at the hospital, and lots from the hospital use him, so that sounds like an endorsement to me.

Have a good weekend, and I promise not to mention insulation again.  Probably.

Resting my aching bones

I have a day off today.  I have spent the weekend "pot holing" under the floor boards of my house.  Really.  A story for another day.  Anyhow I am totally exhausted, and also suffering from a bit of a bad back as well, so all in all, a day off doing nothing but fun is exactly what the doctor ordered.

Today, I will get my haircut (rearranged from a previous Friday evening when we off 'vannin'), then lunch out with LO, and finally to watch the recording of I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue.  It is a subject of much debate as to how it fares now that the mighty Humphrey Lyttelton is making jazz in the sky, however I think that while he was irreplaceable, the show itself is bigger than any individual.  And that, my friends, is an oxymoron.  Just like the show.

In memory of the great Humph, here are a randomly selected bunch of quotes from the man:

• Incidentally, you may be interested to know that Colin's musical influences are, in fact, Middle Eastern in origin. Yes, mainly Shiite. 
• The pioneering feminist, Emmeline Pankhurst, was born in Manchester. Starting in 1910, Pankhurst campaigned noisily for women's rights outside Parliament every day from 4 o'clock in the afternoon. She would have got there earlier but she always had a stack of ironing to get through first.  
• On with the show, and our teams tonight are undoubtedly the foremost available comedy talents in the country. [scoffs].  Something wrong there. Sorry, that should read, "The four most available comedy talents in the country". 
• Incidentally, Colin's piano playing is widely believed by faith healers to hold miraculous powers. It once made a blind man deaf.  
• Samantha nearly made it. She's been detained at the last minute in the city's Latin Quarter. An Italian gentleman friend has promised to take her out for an ice cream, and she likes nothing better than to spend the evening licking the nuts off a large Neapolitan. 
• "Nietzsche said that life was a choice between suffering and boredom. He never said anything about having to put up with both at the same time."

Not bad for a trumpet player.  Gone but not totally forgotten.

There's snow business...

If you could have seen some of the puns I rejected, you would have been a lot kinder to that title.

Anyhow, today's subject is snow.  It is occupying an awful lot of airtime and ground time, and certainly in my bit of the world, the sunny South, it is currently laying at least fifteen centimetres deep, which is six inches in old money.  The whole landscape has been bathed in a very thick duvet of snow, and it produces both a visual spectacle and an audio deadening, which makes it feel a very serene and peaceful environment.  From the warmth of my kitchen window.

As maggot 2 found out after only ten minutes of play before school, it is really very wet and very cold and not so nice when it gets down inside your wellies.  Some lessons need to be learnt the hard way, and we were half way to school before his gloves were, once again, caked in an inch of icy compacted snow.  Oh well, at least the school was warm, and open.

Talking of schools being opened, we had a bit of a thing during last year's snow.  Our school closed, along with all the other local schools, on day two or three of the snow.  One of our friends happens to work at the hospital, and happens to work with the wife of the Chief Exec of the council, and happened to mention the issue of school's closing. i.e. that that Health and Safety fears tend to panic schools in to closing, meanwhile all the working parents continue to get to their work, and therefore are suddenly presented with a childcare issue.  This was relayed back to the Chief Exec and it triggered a temporary change of policy, followed by discussions on the strategic approach.  No idea how far it went, but our school is open, so far.

So I find myself working at home unplanned for a second day.  I have to say it improves the commute, but it does rather cut one off from ones colleagues.  Sure we have all the tools to remain connected, but it is not the same as being in the same building as the team.  It is probably one of the few downsides of mobile working; while the rest of the country gives up trying to get to work, and stays at home watching Jeremy Kyle, us mobile workers are sitting at our laptops doing a day's work on the end of a wire as if nothing had happened.

I hope your day goes well, and you stay at home rather than attempting to get anywhere other than the kettle for another cup of tea.  I know how you like your tea.

Now I really think this may be the last word on sheds

At home today, snowed in and rather glad to be so.

I had to read my blog just to check that I have not already told you this.  To my surprise, I had not.  What was I thinking?

Just wanted to give you a quick update on the shed, coz I was very happy with the outcome.  £217 was the final price, bought by someone from a few miles away, and who was v. keen to come and get it on Tuesday, except I was working away on that day so had to put him off until Friday.  And then it snowed.

Hopefully it will clear by Friday, we will have a checkpoint Thursday evening, and if so, he and a friend will arrive to dismantle and take away a very good shed, and I will have some notes to go towards the base.

Result.

Only other quick mention is for I'm a Celebrity, Get me Out of Here, which myself and LO are rather addicted to.  Sure it is full of calories and has no goodness, but hey, sometimes you have just gotta feed that addiction.  So Gillian has finally left to have a colon cleanse and a chat with her agent to see what Panto's are available, and some of the true colours of the inmates are now coming through.  There is the "funny guy who is a bit arrogant really" one, and the "butter wouldn't melt toppless totty who may have a bite after all" one, and the "big man who is a bit of a wus really" one, not forgetting the "seemed really stupid but is actually quite clever and is coming across better and better" one.  All I can say is, keep it coming.  It is TV that you can watch and read a magazine at the same time, so it is definitely not time wasted.

What is in a word?

I have been reading a lot of other people's output just lately, and I have been rather appalled at the poor state of their writing.  I then started to ponder on the question "is sloppy writing a case of ignorance or apathy?"  I concluded that I didn't know and didn't care.

Boom boom.

A final word about sheds

I can see that my continued discussion about sheds is losing me readership, but you see it is a link in a chain of events that will get us to where we need to get.

Let me explain the chain, a story I think best told in bullets.

• Today I will move the insulation from the garage to the 'van.
• Then I will move the contents of the shed to the garage, maybe some of it to somewhere else.
• As I am emptying the shed, I will reorganise all the junk I took from the side of the shed onto the concrete bit, so I don't kill the grass.  I will then clear out the maggots' play house to act as temporary storage for shed items that need to be a bit dry but are not so worried about bad weather.
• Tomorrow I will have sold the shed*.
• Sometime in the not too distant future, someone will arrive with a van and a screwdriver and together we will dismantle the little darling and the person will take it away.
• I will finish the clearing round the back of the shed, so the whole area is clear.
• I will ring the man who is laying the base, and within a couple of days he will arrive and do his work.
• Once I have the date for the base lay, I will ring the shed place to arrange for them to come and install said shed.
• Once the very very big shed is up, I can re-populate it with everything I took out, ensuring I adhere to the rule of thirds**.
• The following weekend I will be bringing up a lot of the floorboards in the front room, and installing the lambs' wool and permeable membrane under-floor insulation.  The family may go out for the day.
• On a weekend yet to be determined, but hopefully before Christmas, I will move all the furniture out of the room, some to our new very very big shed, so that I can sand and re-varnish it.  Last time I used oil-based varnish, which is not so tough but discolours in sunlight to develop a lovely patina.  Now I have the colour I like, I can use water-based varnish, which is tougher and does not discolour.
• After Christmas, I will be moving a lot of the stuff in garage, study and utility room in to various locations, plenty of it to the new shed (did I mention how big it is?) and some to temporary locations around the house, including in the kitchen, piled up in the dining room etc.
• We will now be spending 3 months in the house from hell.  Tempers will be short, things will be unfindable and I imagine dust will be everywhere.  We will all need the mantra.  "It will all be worth it when it is finished".

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* Currently at one hundred and eight watchers, six bids and sixty-two notes top bid.

** The Rule of Thirds is utterly made up, but it is my mantra for tidying stuff, and the mantra is that in any situation of storage congestion, you can and very much should lose*** a third of it.

*** Lose equals, as Bob the Builder always says, reduce, reuse, recycle.  Lose for me equals reuse, recycle, freecycle or tip.