I'm sure I can do it cheaper..

MrBane

LE
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For today's regular update, I had written a big. lengthy report on what's been happening since this project started. I got to the end and realised it could be summed up with just this:

MrsB and I have had some crossed words over the last couple of months. There's been the odd threat for one or the other to leave the house. It's all getting a bit too much. One trade I used seems to have decided to use my garden for their plant storage, for the last three months. It's coming very close to being 'stolen' by passing pikeys.

Last night, the argument between us is picking up a good head of steam. She storms off, I mutter, "******* idiot." she storms back in:

"What did you say?"
"I said you're a ******* idiot."

She goes off on one, I say,

"I've had enough, I'm leaving."
"Fine, **** off then."

She storms off upstairs. I go to leave, then remember I've a pizza in the oven and that I can't be fucked going out the house. So I sit in front of the oven (that's all that's left of the kitchen), eat my pizza and watch Dirty Dancing on the laptop.

She comes down an hour later and we both laugh about it whilst in my head I fantasise about life without her.

That's pretty much where this shitshow is at. :|
 
For today's regular update, I had written a big. lengthy report on what's been happening since this project started. I got to the end and realised it could be summed up with just this:

MrsB and I have had some crossed words over the last couple of months. There's been the odd threat for one or the other to leave the house. It's all getting a bit too much. One trade I used seems to have decided to use my garden for their plant storage, for the last three months. It's coming very close to being 'stolen' by passing pikeys.

Last night, the argument between us is picking up a good head of steam. She storms off, I mutter, "******* idiot." she storms back in:

"What did you say?"
"I said you're a ******* idiot."

She goes off on one, I say,

"I've had enough, I'm leaving."
"Fine, **** off then."

She storms off upstairs. I go to leave, then remember I've a pizza in the oven and that I can't be fucked going out the house. So I sit in front of the oven (that's all that's left of the kitchen), eat my pizza and watch Dirty Dancing on the laptop.

She comes down an hour later and we both laugh about it whilst in my head I fantasise about life without her.

That's pretty much where this shitshow is at. :|
SNAFU then.

please give me head start while I run away !
 

MrBane

LE
Moderator
Kit Reviewer
Reviews Editor
SNAFU then

The thing that's killing me is that delivery dates are all shot to ****. Two months for this, three weeks for that, you can have this tomorrow but it's no good without that which takes five weeks.

******* hell man. Who would ever have thought relying on everything being built in another country would ever come back to haunt us?
 
The thing that's killing me is that delivery dates are all shot to ****. Two months for this, three weeks for that, you can have this tomorrow but it's no good without that which takes five weeks.

******* hell man. Who would ever have thought relying on everything being built in another country would ever come back to haunt us?
We (foolishly )delayed the refurb of the holiday let as it was lockdown, now its back in use but looking a little more "rustic" than it should. We darnt start any work untill all the materials are to hand, sometime.
You have my sympathies .
 
The thing that's killing me is that delivery dates are all shot to ****. Two months for this, three weeks for that, you can have this tomorrow but it's no good without that which takes five weeks.

******* hell man. Who would ever have thought relying on everything being built in another country would ever come back to haunt us?
So, basically, Brexit then?
 

anglo

LE
The thing that's killing me is that delivery dates are all shot to ****. Two months for this, three weeks for that, you can have this tomorrow but it's no good without that which takes five weeks.

******* hell man. Who would ever have thought relying on everything being built in another country would ever come back to haunt us?
The people that out sourced everything to China, don't give F*** for you or anybody else,
as long as they make money.
It makes the Greens happy, as now we don't produce anything, we don't kill the polar bears, and
we have moved all the pollution to China, who now do the pollution for us,
Maybe the UK will start to produce its own tat again, but don't hold your breath,
as Vietnam is cheaper than China now,
 
No, Covid-19,
That's become Standard Cock-up Excuse No. 1 these days.

Anything that goes wrong - blame Covid.
 
As per one of my previous posts, I'd finally got myself clear of the rubble in Beirut, and my return trip was relatively uneventful if somewhat delayed after I mentioned to the skipper of the boat I was on that I could have a look at the rudder, which sounded a bit iffy to my learned ears, when I got hit with a rather large quote for some landscaping work.

To bring you up to speed, I've been absent from post due to various reasons, none of which will interest you but which in the short to medium term, may result in a pair of boots going, including quite a lot of old review gear I suppose. Due to all this nonsense, it seemed sensible to move house so that Mrs MRB and Jnrs would have a nice place, done up a treat. Duly bought an old but sizeable hutch off of some old dear who's kids in Japan and the US were throwing into a home. You'll be pleased to know that after they accepted the offer, and being several thousand miles away and desperate for the cash, I knocked them down a few thousand after sucking the air through my teeth whilst looking at the back garden wall (circa 150 years old) and said it needed urgent repairs.

Alas, Covid hit and just as I'd turned the house into a building site, every bit of building supply in the UK was absorbed into the Nightingales. I spent several months living in a tent, having managed to get one room plastered, wired and painted for the beloveds to sleep in (got the plaster by driving 250 miles). This was done entirely (almost) by me, believe it or not. I used a painter that I'd known and used for years, but he took the **** out of me over time / pricing, etc and then one day, went too far:

One fine hot day whilst he was working away:

MRBJnr says to MrsB "The side fence is on fire."
MrsB: "No it's not, it'll just be someone having a BBQ."
MRBJnr: "okay."
Ten minutes later
MRBJnr: "There's lots of flames now."
MrsB goes to look: "**** a duck."
MrsB to me, elsewhere in house: "Fence is on fire."
MRB: "Very good."
MrsB: "No, it is."
MRB goes to look: "**** a duck"

About four meters of old, very dry ranch style fencing happily woofting away. Grab the hose and eventually managed to get it out. Go back up to painter, who I knew would have his smoke breaks there. Confrontation ensues, lots of denial, and I sack him. I went in to a ******* rage like you wouldn't believe, and at that moment in time, determined to learn how to do it all myself.

Suffice to say, what I've learned isn't something anyone who teaches would recognise, but it got the plaster up (and down, and up again) and painted. It looks quite smart. I even put in four downlights in the bedroom, but mainly because I accidentally knocked a hole in one of the ceiling boards and thought "**** it, I'll just match it".

You'd have loved the mains board by the way, it looked like the good Dr (Who?) would have used it in his reTardis. This thing was old and whilst having been upgraded somewhat, had kept all the original fittings, etc.
I learned how to wraggle, which created an almighty mess and a lot of plastering work thereafter, but that was fun - a mate showed me out of sympathy after I tried tacking the lives to the wall with some u-clips. That went really well, and in fairness, he, being a sparky to trade, helped with everything else and taught me a lot (milk after the hot water). I felt very fulfilled by the end of it. I also have full access to the armoured cable that comes in off the street; we did discuss briefly whether or not he could feed into it and bypass the meter, but he for some reason appeared concerned about tampering with the street mains cable.

Got one bathroom done - I went the wall panel route, except the delivery guy left the panels bowed between either end of the garage door, so when I tried to fit one, I was in tears because it wouldn't sit flush. Angry phonecalls ensued and replacements duly arrived, but halfway round MrsB pointed out that (it's the white brick design) I hadn't cut the boards lengthways, so you had 'bricks' that were two inches wide and bricks five inches wide. So I had to rip them off and start again. Not, I should add, before I removed all the old bathroom, including piping. I was taking off all the old piping, and **** knows why, but I was holding the pipe to the shower in my hand, where it vanished into the wall. I gave it a shoogle, "feels empty enough." and undid the joining cap on it, and lo, street pressure water came flying out like a ******* firehose. Finger jammed in it, screaming the house down for MrsB where I had to scream instructions as to how to isolate in the basement. Managed to slash my hand open on all the debris around me (tearing out remember) and so the bathroom is soaked, blood everywhere, and it's dripping downstairs into the ground bathroom where the electrics started to go thanks to the introduction of water.

She couldn't find the valve, so I had my phone out screaming down it for my mate down the road to get up here, and fifteen minutes later, we had the water off. Thankfully, minimal lasting damage apart from pride and marriage stability. I went downstairs, bathroom light below flickering like crazy - I pull the cord to turn it off and instantly shit my pants due to the high voltage coursing through my body, before finally killing the mains and letting it all dry out.

I tore down the old conservatory due to it not being safe, and I was true to form - I can destroy anything in seconds. A good 3 x 5m solid beamed conservatory fitted to the back of the garage and after many plans of trying to save and reuse it (rotten to the core), the decision was made to kill it. So I think at 4pm I was stood outside staring at it and said "**** you, pal" and had it down and in the skip by 11pm, including the flooring and sub-surface aggregate up. I sustained one minor head injury (swung from the edge of the roof until it all snapped off and fell on top of me) and the garage sustained minor damage due to my method of removal. It now has a new vent over said hole.

I sorted the wiring in the garage, removing the excess that had fed the conservatory and making it safe (just don't touch any of the wiring bundled up in the corner with the gaffa tape over it), and I even figured out how to run wiring for an extra light in the garage whilst doing so (don't, ffs, turn it on).

I then found the Asbestos, thanks to the survey I'd arranged, but mercifully only a small bit in the basement. Some cheap day labour was hired and asked to 'clean out the basement', but I tipped well, so that's okay and what they don't know, won't harm th.... oh, wait... anyway....
This was also in the part of the basement where I'd been digging down to find how far the founds went, as I can only stand in one small part, and I want the whole basement to be accessible, but I went too far and was actually able (quite impressed by this) to technically get my hand under my house. I rapidly filled it back in, but work is still ongoing in that area.

So, I'm waiting for planning permission for a knock through from kitchen to dining room and a full attic conversion. Hopefully come through this month, then I figure for the knock through, as long as I knock out a wee bit and put a support up, I can probably knock through the rest, supporting along the way and replace with some sort of lintle thing. The attic conversion won't be too much work, with the hardest part probably being the ability to retain the roof (not through any concern, just through me accidentally knocking it off).

My low point was when my 89 year old neighbour (who is a **** of the highest order) put a hand written note through the door.

I'm in the house, I hear a shuffling at the letterbox. I go look, see a letter coming through. I pull at it and open the door. Neighbour stood there, looking very surprised:

MRB: "Hi there Jack (Let's pretend that's his name and not '****'), how's things?
Jack: "Oh, eh, yes, very good, yes."
MRB: "How's the wife?"
Jack: "Yes, good. Eh, good to see things are moving on from this Covid, eh?"
MRB: "Yes, it is, fingers crossed it all blows over."
Jack: "Yes, aye, eh, right, I'll be on my way then."
MRB: "Bye!"

Close door and look at my hand, realise I have this letter in it he was putting through. I presume it's a wee note, being neighbourly or wishing us well with the renovations. I open it:

"We are very disappointed that you have let your hedge get so out of control. It is a disgrace to the street and we hope you would do something about it as soon as possible."

For a **** in a zimmer, that boy moved rapid because I nearly tore the door off the hinges, but there was no sign of him outside.

A week or so later, I was breaking up some stuff for the skip in the front drive when he came up to say hello and I let him have it with both barrels, not realising the entire time that I was shaking the hammer in my hand towards him. Phrases such as "Not slept in a bed for a year, do I give a **** about a ******* hedge, no I do ******* not, how dare you ******* do that to us." may or may not have left my lips. Anyway, he seemed to understand the gravity of the situation, and apparently across the road were told 20 years ago by his wife that their garden was a disgrace, and they've not spoke to them since. I don't take it to heart.

However, what is gripping my shit is a quote I had from the landscapers. I don't have much spare time, so I thought I'd get some basic work done around the garden - relaying some uneven slabs, putting in a new gravel path, fixing up a bit of the driveway and tearing out the back bed to replace with conifers. I also want a 7x3 cleared out where the old conservatory sat so I can put in a new cabin - someone on this forum has a man cabin with bar, etc. I want something similar, but long with that sloped roof style and a serving hatch I can drop down so the family can entertain their friends when they're over, and the Jnrs will have a chillout space (beanbags, etc).

The mob I use came back today with £15,000 incl VAT just for the basic works (not a cabin).

What the ******* ****?

So everything else aside, I'm going to go start lifting slabs, cutting back boundaries, breaking up concrete foundations and everything ******* else, but it can't be that hard and I can't see where they money would have gone. If nothing else, it means I can hit MrsB with the ruse of "I need to buy all this equipment, and it'll still work out cheaper."

I also want to look at the concept of these gravel pads (UV treated) as a base for the cabin - apparently they can be used for sheds, but for something heavier with glazing, patio door etc? I'm not sure. Anyone had any experience of them?

Anyway, I've been sat tonight wasting time looking on Youtube for how to do paving etc, and I'm just fucked off at the prices some people ask for - what better place to rant than on here?

I'm exhausted. I haven't slept in a bed since February 2020.

Morning @MrBane,
Are you 'Alan the builder?;).
 
For today's regular update, I had written a big. lengthy report on what's been happening since this project started. I got to the end and realised it could be summed up with just this:

MrsB and I have had some crossed words over the last couple of months. There's been the odd threat for one or the other to leave the house. It's all getting a bit too much. One trade I used seems to have decided to use my garden for their plant storage, for the last three months. It's coming very close to being 'stolen' by passing pikeys.

Last night, the argument between us is picking up a good head of steam. She storms off, I mutter, "******* idiot." she storms back in:

"What did you say?"
"I said you're a ******* idiot."

She goes off on one, I say,

"I've had enough, I'm leaving."
"Fine, **** off then."

She storms off upstairs. I go to leave, then remember I've a pizza in the oven and that I can't be fucked going out the house. So I sit in front of the oven (that's all that's left of the kitchen), eat my pizza and watch Dirty Dancing on the laptop.

She comes down an hour later and we both laugh about it whilst in my head I fantasise about life without her.

That's pretty much where this shitshow is at. :|
This pizza did it have pineapple on it
 

anglo

LE
That's become Standard Cock-up Excuse No. 1 these days.

Anything that goes wrong - blame Covid.
The shortages are down to all the countries shutting down due to the Pandemic
If the Pandemic had not happened there would have been no shortages
It's got FA to do with Brexit, every country in the world is in the same position as the UK,
 
Willerby static vans are not taking any orders for new vans till 2023 citing shortage of materials and prior orders
 

MrBane

LE
Moderator
Kit Reviewer
Reviews Editor
Just **** off.

Just.

****.

Off.
IMG-20211130-WA0029.jpeg
 

MrBane

LE
Moderator
Kit Reviewer
Reviews Editor
The biggest tragedy with that picture is that I can only click the laugh smiley once......

I'm genuinely on the point of tears now. The attic is mid-refurb, but the water is going through to the daughter's bedroom below, which is all new.

When the roof was installed 1950s, they didn't cross batten, so the tiles are basically held on quite loose, and because we've been hammering away and having to fit steel etc, they've started knocking loose.

Try to get a roofer, good ******* luck. This is a problem I can only solve by throwing money at it.
 
I'm genuinely on the point of tears now. The attic is mid-refurb, but the water is going through to the daughter's bedroom below, which is all new.

When the roof was installed 1950s, they didn't cross batten, so the tiles are basically held on quite loose, and because we've been hammering away and having to fit steel etc, they've started knocking loose.

Try to get a roofer, good ******* luck. This is a problem I can only solve by throwing money at it.

I feel your pain

I live in a very oddball 1960's bungalow with a butterfly roof, the mid section is flat roofed in fibreglass.
It leaks.

The remaining pitched roof sections are concrete tiles which need replacing.
The roofer has been promissing to start for 9 months now.
 
I'm genuinely on the point of tears now. The attic is mid-refurb, but the water is going through to the daughter's bedroom below, which is all new.

When the roof was installed 1950s, they didn't cross batten, so the tiles are basically held on quite loose, and because we've been hammering away and having to fit steel etc, they've started knocking loose.

Try to get a roofer, good ******* luck. This is a problem I can only solve by throwing money at it.
That sounds pretty miserable. Can you not throw the world's supply of sealant (or equivalent) up there in the leaking area as a temp fix? Or might that knacker things later on?

Is it dripping through in specific spots, or seeping through over a wider area?
 

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