Sunday Reflection

A Quick Update

The most important thing first: the weather has been glorious for two whole days now - it can't last.

Of the major works, P the builder only needs to install a central heating and hot water system and that work begins a week on Monday - more upheaval and more getting worse before it gets better.  When that's done it's just the little things remaining @ £140 pd.

It won't be long now though; P's done a great job so far. It's beginning to look fab and passers-by actually stop and say how lovely the house looks now it's been painted and the garden has been cleared.  I'm not sure how many have noticed that I've taken down the ugly Sky satellite dish and replaced it with a rather swish and buccaneering weathervane - which actually works.   I love it!  If I get stuck for something to do I walk out into the middle of the road, shade my eyes and cast lingering glances of admiration upwards.  If only I'd had time to attach a pirate skull and crossbones before it went up my life would be complete ;)

Suki loves it here too.  He's establishing a little routine: eat, sleep, patrol, fight, sleep, eat, patrol, fight, sleep ...  The strange thing is that although he's now made friends with the other neighbourhood cats there's one he actually goes out on the prowl for and that one is a little three-legged cat, just like him.  You'd think that being birds of a feather they'd form a bond since three-legged cats are rare as hens' teeth, rather like those who admit to being a LibDem these days.  The trouble began when Suki saw his fellow feline doing her business in the garden the night the fences blew down and he won't forget or forgive: they are sworn enemies.  She just sits there and pouts prettily before telling him what a scumbag he is and running away - I think she might wear him down in the end.

I'm making inroads into the back yard with netting fixed to the walls and clematis and honeysuckle ready for planting; the montbretia went in a couple of weeks ago and has taken very well.  I just have to fill the beds with compost where the level has dropped and, hey presto! I'll have a lovely view from the kitchen window before you know it.  At the moment it's just paint-flaking, stone-crumbling walls that once were white but are now green and fungi-ridden. I'd like to put decking out the back too: the paving is too far gone to restore and it's quite dangerous to walk on but I think a make-over will have to wait.  The flagpole is up though - St George and a Gadsden.  It was supposed to be 20ft but I lowered it to 15ft so it isn't too intrusive for the neighbours.  I don't know them well enough yet and I'm not about to give anyone a chance to call me a racist for flying the flag of my own country, not just yet.  Let me settle in first.

I haven't begun the raised beds because I just keep adding to the pile of rubbish in the front: cardboard; plastic, ripped out kitchen cupboards/worktops/kitchen sink/taps/oven/hob/satellite dish... you get the picture.  I'm having it cleared next week before a Roma family takes up residence.  If you're wondering why the neighbours don't complain it's because my new fence is 6ft high and the pile of rubbish is 5ft 11ins.

Slowly, slowly... I'll get there in the end.

According to Plan

Torquay is going slowly at the moment - the only one making progress is P the builder who's made a startling transformation from black-mould-hell to liveable home. He takes a break tomorrow and won't be back until early/mid-July when we'll start to make inroads into the archaic hot water and central heating system and re-do the bathroom, which has an impossible corner bath and clapped-out toilet.

I can count on the fingers of one hand the days it hasn't rained here but, despite that, the exterior has been transformed, damp corners have been tanked, the kitchen has been re-fitted and electrics have been sorted. The raised beds aren't up yet because of the ongoing work to the frontage and the debris accumulating in the front garden.

My 'new phone' was returned to sender yesterday so I can't show you any pics yet. I guess I just have to calm down and hope for the best:

Cosdon

I've been trying to discover the origins of the house name 'Cosdon'. The closest connection I can find is that Cosdon Hill on Dartmoor was once a place of beacons and there's a hill/tor/vantage point somewhere close-by that retains the name.

This is an old house with very few features intact - ie one generation thought it was more expedient to build a pitched roof rather than repair the original flat roof (still up there - it was just built over) and since then it's gone into decline because it's only known a few years of being loved and cared for.

Times have changed for this little house because I love it and know it deserves better: its architecture may not be the best and its siting, between crumbling stone walls and with no viable damp-proofing, may leave much to be desired but when I leave it will be feet-first and the house will be better for me having lived here and the garden will be glorious.

P, the builder, is currently painting the frontage (Cream and Empire Green) and on Tuesday he'll be extending his ladders up to the roof apex to take down the ugly satellite dish and replace it with this:

Sometimes it's worth foregoing food for something that's simply splendid.

Cosdon
Dartmoor's Stone Rows

PS My new phone didn't arrive within the 'Express Delivery' slot so pics will follow next week.

A Rollercoaster

If only days weren't a succession of ups, downs and swooping roller-coasters. Two hours with BT (total broadband and phone package) and four departments (two Scottish, two Indian) really tried my patience this morning. If I'd been wearing my shoes I swear I'd have kicked a window in but as it is I only managed to throw a cat brush across the room.

The new sink in the kitchen leaks because the plumber didn't change the connections properly last week so that's another day's work and I've just had the estimate for the central heating/hotwater (£7000): it didn't include the bathroom, which has to be done at the same time.  The wooden floor in the bathroom was cut around the corner bath and that means that when the bath goes the floor will have a semi-circle of, who knows what, below.

Happy Bunny?  Nah!

Other bad stuff: the trailing fuschias in the boxes have all died on me after only two days.

Good stuff:  P fixed the main electrical cable into the house and housed it in a conduit so I won't see sparks flying whenever I open the front door; the strawberries and tomatoes are doing well; the geraniums are fine; wallpaper is up on one wall in my bedroom and I'm just waiting delivery of a very fine 70's wardrobe.

I suppose it's to be expected that making things better means making things worse for a time but, tonight, being so far away from my sons & having very little in the way of phone calls means I feel alone.  Something's wrong when the internet being taken away from me can be the catalyst for so much pain.  Being cut off from the online press, the House of Commons debate on the Private Member's EU Referendum, and the plumber's leak were the final straw today.

I'd like to believe that tomorrow will be better but it won't.  I've done all I can do but boxes still need shifting and they're too high and too heavy for me to reach. I really want to get my garden going and so far, so good.  If you're wondering where the camera is - so am I.

Dear Diary...

Avatar Farm

Do you know that funny feeling you get?  It's the one that comes out of the blue for no reason that you can put your finger on and it settles in the centre of your chest and feels quite warm and full as it spreads up to your throat and forehead - that one.  If I had to give it a name I'd call it 'contentment' or 'love' and if I were a cat I'd be purring blissfully.

P added a terrific 'P Special' trellis today and planting is almost up-to-date so I now have six hanging baskets and eight troughs hanging off the stone walls and fencing.  Due to it being so late in the season I bought last-minute plugs or grafted plants but next year I'll be growing from seed and cuttings as usual - I'm looking forward to January 2014 when my kitchen and dining room will be filled to overflowing with seed trays and compost.

The baskets and troughs contain a mix of veg, fruit and flowers but at the moment it's mainly flowers: cascading geraniums, trailing fuchsias, tumbling tomatoes and English strawberries.  I've also planted a couple of large pots with a fig tree - donated by P - and a small bay tree.  The lilac tree has been staked to support it against the wind and it looks as though it will survive after the ivy and fungus attack.  For all that the plants aren't yet grown or in bloom the garden still looks more alive and welcoming and the birds are beginning to visit.

The Star Jasmine and the Clematis Elizabeth are doing very well in their new home, despite the fact that Suki has been caught, on numerous occasions, peeing in the Clematis - maybe it's a plant that appreciates nitrogen! Wild lilacs also grow everywhere here and they smell wonderful in the warm air. I can hardly wait for my corner of Scented Heaven Central to come into full bloom :)

I've been trying to lay out part of the raised beds but it's tricky because of the 'debris' - there won't be enough room until I've cleared it all away.  I've solved the problem of the Giulietta tomato by planting it in a large wicker hamper that once contained Christmas goodies (I knew it would come in useful one day and I've only had to hang on to it for twelve years).  I lined the hamper with weed-suppressing membrane and coco fibre before filling it with an Irish peat/organic compost/vermiculite mix.  Giulietta is a grafted Italian plum tomato so I'll stake it and love it and, once the sun begins to shine, it will repay me with a bounty of delicious tomatoes for salads and sauces.

I went to NatWest in St Marychurch today and it was what I've become accustomed to of late: 'fraud', 'fraudulent'; 'dna'; 'blood test'; 'family antecedents'...  One question I particularly liked: 'When did you first open your bank account?'  When I gave them the year, give or take a couple, I was told, 'No, what date?'  Well, I laughed my socks off and the staff - it took three of them to sort it out, including the Manager - were what I've experienced of people down here: lovely.  I just hope they recognise me next time!

The drive back was interesting - I think it was the scenic route.  Flags - Union and St George - adorned almost every building and Babbacombe Beach was very inviting. I had two useful recommendations: one for a seafront pub/restaurant called 'Angels', which I'm told does terrific food, and another for a fishmonger who gets his daily catch from the local fleets at Brixham Harbour.

It's strange here. I get the impression that, for example, our national flags would have caused more of an uproar had they been taken down for 'causing offence' rather than for having been erected in the first place.  I know I keep banging on about the difference between London and Torquay/Devon but the disconnect really is quite striking.  London is a city under siege and the fallout has yet to reach the Shires but come it will:

So much to do, so little time

I hope anyone out there who might be reading this post isn't anticipating a joyous account of moving home.  Actually, I'm still upbeat and optimistic about how things will turn out while, at the same time, strangely depressed.

My mobile phone sparked into life this afternoon but conked out again by the time I'd taken a pic of the beginnings of the raised beds and tried to send it to my email for downloading - some things aren't meant to be and it seems it will be another three weeks or so before my new phone arrives.  Unless I find the digital camera in the meantime there'll be no pictures, pretty or otherwise.

I suppose it's a given that while trying to make things better, everything gets inexorably worse (think eurozone).  The upshot is that I have a front garden that looks only marginally better than a Roma gypsy encampment. It's a tip with an old hob, burnt-out oven and dilapidated sink piled on top of discarded wood, old fencing panels, rotten worktops, sawdust, clapped out electrical fittings and packing cases - all that's missing to complete the Roma picture would be running sewerage and a suitcase full of stolen Rolexes and Cartier bracelets.

The upside is that the new fence is brilliant - 5ft high and solid so the neighbours don't have to see the mess.   Speaking of neighbours, I have one, who will not be named, who peeps over the fence with increasing regularity, has asked intrusive questions and wandered into the garden looking for Suki.  I'm now seriously worried about not having fitted a blind at the bathroom window!  One job on my list was to file down the bottom of the gate,  which grates noisily on the cobble-stone path to the front door.  I've decided to leave it - no guesses why.  I've also reluctantly decided to erect a trellis at the front and that's a shame because I didn't want to be cut off or isolated from my, on the whole, friendly neighbours.  There is, however, a world of difference between friendly and downright nosey. 'Oh, I thought you were out'; 'So, who owns it?'; 'How much is all this costing you?'  I'm getting the distinct feeling that if I say one thing to one neighbour and something else to another the gossips will get together and make a bigger picture to spread around the neigbourbood.  My advice to myself: Stay schtum and carry on.

P, the builder, has made marvellous inroads into myriad jobs to be done and he has the patience and kindly humour of a Saint - and he does like his tea!  The ability to fix mirrors, paintings or netting to stone walls is not one of my accomplishments, neither is fitting a new kitchen but he's done sterling work and I've been very grateful for his help.  His next big task is either to paint the frontage cream/ British Racing Green (the rear has gone hang for years so I see no reason to change) or to put in a new central heating/hot water system and bathroom.  Either way I'll be keeping him busy for a few more weeks.

My problem now is that I look around and just see piles of boxes from floor to ceiling that need opening and furniture that needs moving from room to room.  If the stuff in the boxes was any good I'd be more enthusiastic about the task but it's been in storage for two years in deepest Kent so, really, it needs to be sorted through and most of it will have to be thrown out - it's grown, it's shrunk, it's out of date.   Oh, and my LPs are ruined, including my Beatles' Please Please Me: most of the covers have stuck together and the records inside are covered in a fine, pinky-coloured dust.  It's inevitable that after all this time there will be casualties.

Everything seems to happen in St Marychurch, not Wellswood.  If I ran NatWest and it were up to me I'd open up a new branch in Wellswood for fear of losing my custom to the local Post Office - yes, one still exists and it's run by a lovely chap who always seems to have at least two regulars in there who just go for a chat and are always propping up the counter.  London this is not.

Next on the list of things to do is to find a doctor, a dentist (cap disintegrated during my breakfast of toast and Marmite), a chiropodist (not sure but I think it's either a splinter of wood or a verucca).  I normally do things like nails myself but I really feel in the need of pampering at the moment.  I'm holding off because I think I might regret the cost and why pay someone to do something you can do yourself?  My hair is another matter and a trip to the hairdresser is in order.

So that's an update, sans photos. I'm still here and still adjusting - life in Torquay is so different to life in London; it's easy to immerse oneself in localism and forget the bigger picture (I'm talking politics here).  London smacks you in the face or stabs you in the back but Torquay beguiles.

Here's Julien Parrott, UKIP Leader/Chairman of Torbay Council, in action six days ago (he's the one in fancy dress):



Kudos to the local UKIP group who challenged the flag of the European Union flying over Brixham Harbour. The sad rag has been taken down. Yippie ki yay mf.

A barbecue weekend

Well, I did say in my last post that if Suki continued to whinge once I let him out into the front after the new fences were erected that I'd barbecue him.  The weather here is gorgeous so a barbecued drumstick that tastes 'a bit like chicken' seems appropriate, maybe with an accompaniment of a Devon tomato salad and a jacket potato with lashings of Devonshire butter.

The fences are 5ft high with no purchase for cats' claws and the stone wall is 6ft+.  He steels himself to jump almost to the top of the fence but then slides down like a cartoon cat, leaving his claw imprints on the way.  Once he worked out that he was lousy at climbing fences (three legs good, four legs better) he turned his attention to the wall.  I swear this cat, for all he was rescued in Spain, has some Yorkshire blood in him: he just won't give up.

Still, it's shown me once again what lovely neighbours I have.  Twice today, H has looked over the fence or rang the bell to let me know The Ginger Being was going walkabout and then I met A, for the first time, who proceeded to walk with me, up and down the road, calling for the flipping cat.

I say 'flipping' because the previous time I'd brought him in, courtesy of two ladies I haven't met properly yet (I like to be formally introduced y'know - Jane Austen and her dance card has nothing on me) he spotted another cat.  'He sounds very upset, poor dear'.  'Oh he is', I said, 'I'm stopping him from eating your cat for breakfast.'  Ice broken!

Being Spanish, he, Suki not A, wasn't mightily miffed in an English sort of way when I took him back into the garden, he was full-on tearing his hair out and digging holes into my arms - first time ever.  He then proceeded to attack my ankles.  Each of the savlon-smothered holes is 5-6mm in diameter - yes, I actually measured them, they're enormous gaping wounds - and I'm not a happy bunny.  I've never heard him in such a rage before. He's now sleeping next to me, curled up as if butter wouldn't melt.

No camera but the Star Jasmine (trachelospermum) (sun, part shade) is planted around the front porch, replacing the horrid ivy, and so is the Clematis Elizabeth (anywhere).  The parts of the raised beds are all laid out ready for fixing once the old fence is taken away to make room; the permeable weed membrane and newspapers are raring to go (only fit for lining cat trays and raised beds after all), and the easy-to-mix concrete (just add water) is ready to re-build the small stone retaining walls.  If only I were 'raring to go' too.

More boxes have been opened and more pictures and mirrors found; the huge sideboard is finally up on the landing and super-sized Flaming June (Leighton) has taken her place at the top of the stairs; most of the curtain rails are up now and the material and cord/piping has arrived so I can re-cover the seat of the old Lloyd Loom chair for the bathroom and finally put curtains up at the windows.

So, I'm not short of things to do but, my word, it's hard work and Suki, as you'll have gathered by now, is neither use nor ornament.  Well, actually, he is of some use: he curls up at night around my knees and keeps me warm so perhaps I should have second thoughts about barbecuing his remaining hind leg.  His vocal chords though, they're another matter ... ...

Work begins on the kitchen next week so, all being well, it will finally be up and running and ready for cooking at last and the stuff for the kitchen that replaced the stuff for the garden will be replaced by the stuff for the dining room in the hallway.  Then, to the Bank to get some cash.  Wish me luck!

Royston Robertson


PS I've just thought: now that you all know my cat's name I'd better change all my security passwords.

Hallelujah!

This must be incredibly boring for you but, for me, it's a reality survival show sponsored by Skating on Thin Ice courtesy of Idiot Productions. Who will win? Will it be me or the house?

I've been assured by the company that the fencing panels will finally be delivered next Wednesday. I'm here, ready and waiting with my paint - Cuprinol Wild Thyme since you ask - and my brush. I'll finally be able to leave the front door open and let The Whingeing One out into the front garden and if he continues to whinge after all that, well, I may just barbecue him*.

There's been more unpacking, more taking stock of what needs to be done and a long list of 'finishing' jobs to be done next week. I'm wishing now that I hadn't told P, the builder, that that's all there was because every time I walk round or unpack I find more things that I can't do or are too heavy to hang on these walls without industrial strength fixings and macho-man tools. My tool-box is pink.

Once the fences are up I'll be able to concentrate on building the raised beds and pretend that all is well - I love gardening. Getting to grips with late-Summer veg will take my mind off the leaking pipes/gutters, the central heating, the tanking, the exterior paintwork and all the other structural work that's needed. Gardening, growing something from seed, nurturing and planting out then finally picking, eating, cooking, sharing, freezing, pickling any surplus is the best thing ever. I always feel better when my fingers are in the earth and my feet are scrunching grass.

There's still no sign of the camera and I see no point in continuing here unless I find it soon since photographic details of progress and step-by-step guides were the thinking behind the blog in the first place. It's pretty much like tumble-weed over here anyway.

Be warned - I bought a 'garden thermometer' on Ebay - nice and big and cheap.  It's rubbish - 10p made in China, probably.  According to the scale at the moment it's anything between 13 and 23 degrees C or 32 if I put my finger on it because the tube containing the mercury is moveable.  Aaatishoo - bless you! It's 13.

*  Don't fret - I haven't yet fathomed out how to put it together.   Goddam these exploded views!