Another Early Birthday Present

March 20, 2017

Seriously, how cool is this?

killer whale vertebra

I mean it’s only a killer whale vertebra which a friend has passed on. Apparently there was some concern that I might not be that keen on having bits of whale skeleton brought into the house, as this is the sort of thing that wives tend to object to.

boot for scale

Boot for scale

Not this one…


Drilling Down

January 25, 2017

I think I may have mentioned that our attic was previously insulated by someone who was in no way shape or form a completer finisher, and we’ve been working on rectifying that, spurred on by the combination of electric heating and a smart meter which tends to concentrate the mind wonderfully.

Although, that said, progress has still been slow. We did the easy bits, and redistributed all of the loose insulation that was just sitting around in the attic into the gaps between the rafters along the side of the house, which was straightforward enough if I didn’t mind spending a lot of time inching along on my elbows trying not to breathe in too much insulation fibre and/or mouse poo.

Then we thought we’d do the other apparently easy bit, which was to top up the insulation in the apex of the roof which looks like this:

attic space

For reference, that’s just tall enough for me to wriggle into, but not get up onto my hands and knees, so it’s back to the commando crawling.

That seemed like a straightforward enough job: another layer of mineral wool over the top of the rafters. Unforutnately, in practice it has been one of those projects that a colleague of mine used to refer to as climbing the bug tree: in order to get to the point where you fix the problem (not enough insulation), first you have to fix all the other problems which are in the way: no loft boards to crawl on to get the insulation down there, loft hatch too small to get spare loft boards up into the attic space, designated loft insulator (me) having a small panic when she got up into the attic space and then realised how impossible it was to move around with just two planks to balance on and couldn’t work out how to get out again. So, once I’d extricated myself from the attic without the assistance of the fire brigade, we went and bought some more loft boards with the plan of creating a nice crawl path down the middle, firmly screwed down, so I could work a bit more comfortably.

So then the next problem was cutting down the loft boards to a size where they spanned an integer number of rafters and still fit the gap, which would be easier if all of our rafters didn’t appear to be a different distance apart (naturally, whoever installed the first layer of insulation ignored this so there’s a gap of about 10cm in the middle but hey, that’s about par for the course for this house). Then I had to start screwing the loft boards down, which is where things began to come unstuck. Whenever I do a job like this I am confronted by the fact that I am quite extraordinarily unhandy. It doesn’t help that I’m left handed, nor that I never learned how to do these things at school, nor that I am actually not strong enough to hold up the other half’s super duper Makita power tools with one hand, making it difficult to hold down the loft board with the other. Nor indeed that I was trying to do it while lying on my front in a space you wouldn’t keep a chicken in, by the light of a small torch. I think I managed two and a half boards before the increasingly inventive swearing drifting down through the loft hatch alerted the other half to the fact that things were not going well. I could no longer hold the drill straight and steady enough to get the screw into the board, let alone screw it down onto the rafter, and I was ready to throw in the towel, followed by the screw, drill, loft boards and torch, directly into the nearest pond. Time to take a break.

Hopefully, in a day or two my arms will have recovered enough to get a few more boards down, but this is looking like a looong job – and that was the easy part. Still, looking on the bright side, I can now get in and, more importantly, out of the attic without freaking out.

Remind me why it’s so much better to own your own home again?

Turning Left

January 4, 2017

road left

I had occasion to visit our new Nearest Village this morning. As I turned left out of our road end, it occurred to me how infrequently I do this. Since moving, almost every bike ride I’ve done has involved turning right, down towards Bigtown. The odd bit of gadding about around Scotland aside, I have basically been wearing even more of a groove with the bike than I did before, when at least I had two regular routes instead of one. I’m generally a creature of habit, but this is getting a bit boring even for me.

I’m not usually one for New Year’s resolutions (apart from the one about not starting any new cycle campaigns, which I normally manage to keep for at least three months into the year) but this year I thought I might at least shake things up a bit. Nothing so formal as a resolution, but let it be known here* that I shall aim for at least one mini adventure, where by ‘adventure’ I mean ‘going somewhere new by bike’ in a way that involves at the very least getting the old Ordnance Surveys out and possibly even getting lost.

Largely this will mean turning left – to explore the roads north and west of here, roads which I’ve done very little cycling on in the past because it’s all been a little bit out of reach. So this should be the opportunity to take advantage of the move and see what new and exciting places I can discover.

Time permitting, of course …

* I had thought that publicly stating such intentions was a good way of holding oneself accountable, but according to the ever-erudite City Cycling Edinburgh forum, in fact it can be counterproductive as that way you get the pleasure of approbation for just saying you’ll do something and don’t bother to follow through. So you’ll just have to hold me to account here yourselves, if you want any vicarious adventuring

Crawl Space

October 3, 2016

After months and months of what has felt like October weather (wet, blowy, chilly but not freezing), October has decided to get going with a couple of days to gladden the soul.

october skies

The only thing distinguishing it from June (platonic June, that is, not the actual June we had, which was a bit like October, or at least the way October usually is, rather than the October we are actually having, which is a bit like – oh, never mind) is that it’s been a bit nippy at night. Not quite frost, yet, but getting there.

Which is bringing the matter of our insulation into sharp relief. The good news is that the new house has plenty of insulation in the loft. Some of it is even installed where you would expect it to be, between the joists, some of it was installed against the coombes or whatever the slopey bits are, and is now falling off in places, and some of it is still in its roll after whoever it was who installed it got bored of the project and left it in a discreet corner of the attic. In a way, it’s quite encouraging because sorting out the insulation is doable and not particularly expensive if you do it yourself, and it makes a massive difference to your bills – all in all, a no-brainer.

Unfortunately, the shape of the upstairs means that doing it ourselves means me inching along in the triangular gap between the roof and the bedroom wall, using my elbows and toes, because it’s too narrow to properly crawl. My reconnaissance mission on Friday was a good reminder that it’s been far too long since I went to yoga (and besides, I don’t think there’s a pose called downward SAS commando), and I woke up on Saturday wondering if I was coming down with a chest infection because it hurt to breathe, until I remembered that I had spent Friday using muscles that I clearly otherwise only use when I cough.

At some point – perhaps after an intensive yoga retreat to get bendy enough – I’m going to have to go back in there and actually start putting in insulation, which should be interesting. It’s fortunate that I’m not claustrophobic, although I can report that when you’ve crawled as far as you can into a tiny narrow space under the roof, and realised you can’t get any further because there’s a board missing, and you’re going to have to work out how to reverse – then that is a very bad time to have the thought ‘what happens now if the house catches fire?’

house on the hill

The joys of home ownership, eh?

It’s About Time

August 26, 2016

Apologies for the lack of posting in recent days – I’ve been busy, but with the sort of routine boring things that don’t really generate much that is blogworthy,* even allowing for the very generous definition of ‘blogworthy’ used on this site.

wall planner

When we moved, I carefully kept aside all the things I knew I was going to have to put my hands on in short order, while packing up all the things I wouldn’t need for aaaaages – ooh at least the end of August – into various boxes. This evening, I realised that almost a month has passed since we moved and it’s beginning to wear thin as an excuse. In short, the time had come and had to rootle through the unpacked boxes looking for things like the tin that used to live on the windowsill in the old sitting room with the duplicate receipt books in it (popup bookshop) not to mention the file of random correspondence and minutes (community council meeting) and bag of useful material for handing out at bicycle promotion events (bike breakfast) – oh and the large hairy spider (actually I was trying quite hard not to put a hand on that one it scuttled out of one of the boxes). And the fact that I don’t actually yet have anywhere to put all the stuff away into now that it’s unpacked suggests that my settled intention to be a bit more organised now that I have my own study may be something of a work in progress.


First find your desk

However, I have finally bought myself a wall planner so I can at least see how stupidbusy I’m about to get before it happens, although it’s slightly terrifying to discover it’s already almost filled in up until mid December, and we haven’t even started planning the new Pedal on Parliament yet…

* I did consider writing a short disquisition on my new rotary dryer, taking into consideration its place in the class hierarchy vis-a-vis the washing line and the pulley rack – with a short detour into the signifiers inherent in the Belfast sink – but it would only make all of my English readers think less of me, while baffling all of the non Brits** who had no idea there could be a class-based component to laundry accessories.

** Any Scottish, Welsh and Northern Irish readers would just roll their eyes.

Territorial Gains

August 19, 2016

I have been doing some weeding.

weeded scree slope

Actually, I will say one thing about the baffling landscaping of this garden: it’s blissfully easy to weed, at least the bits which have been refashioned as a scree slope. Anyone who has ever battled with creeping buttercup would relish being able to not just pull up a single clump, but have half a dozen more follow, attached by their runners, as easily as detaching a strip of velcro.

artificial stream

Other bits are slightly more hard work (and where the dandelions have got their roots through the landscaping fabric and into the soil below, they have grown to the size of cabbages). We have yet to work out where the pump is for the water feature, but if we can get it working, this (above) will be a miniature streambed.*

work in progress

There’s plenty more clearing to be cracking on with – but I’m conscious of imperial overreach: there’s no point clearing out a bed if you haven’t anything to put into it. I’m not finding too many decent plants among the weeds – apparently the landscaping was done by the previous owners but one, and has since suffered a decade of neglect and death-by-hens – and I’m too tight to go and buy actual plants so I may have to start another batch of random perennials to get me started.

pink geranium

One of the nicer plants found lurking among the weeds

I did get a tour of the garden at the neighbouring farm, and the promise of a few offshoots in autumn, once things are dying down. They had the most amazing clumps houseleeks (‘deafy lugs’ around here apparently) growing on the steading wall, which must have been decades old. I wonder if anyone would notice a few going awol. Indeed, I’m beginning to cast covetous glances on any interesting plant I spy.

I am now beginning to understand why the gardeners at Kew were so leery of visiting old ladies with capacious handbags and a certain glint in their eye…

*I’m minded to put in a miniature ford to go with it

Final Ford News

July 29, 2016

Well we did it – or at least we’ve translocated ourselves and all our stuff to the new house

Paradoxically, despite moving to what is technically a larger house (but with less shedage) we appear to have no room for half of our stuff. This confirms my suspicions that the stuff does actually breed while you’re not looking.

Blogging has been light because we’ve been fairly busy over the last few days, but we did take the opportunity the other night to play one last round of ‘guess the level of the ford’.

Final ford reading

Final ford reading

The other half was delighted to have the winning guess in what will likely be our final bout. Or maybe we will find another ford.