Thursday, 17 November 2011
Wednesday, 16 November 2011
Lights! Cameras! Action!
Yes, we're finally there!!! A comment truly, extensively and indubitably worthy of all those exclamation marks. We finally broke ground yesterday, and by the end of a day in which a fabulous big yellow digger unearthed an astounding mound of, well, earth I am now the proud owner of a swimming pool. It was actually rather disturbing to see the girth of the hole, and my previously mirthful comments to the tune of 'the garden will be the size of a postage stamp' aren't looking too far from the truth now. Oh.
Anyway, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Day one, tick. Problem one, tick. Sigh. The lovely foreman was philosophical about it while I jittered at the edge of the hole (and, it must be said, sanity by this stage) but we've hit our first problem. Problems, actually. Not only do they have to move the neighbour's water pipe, thereby having to cut the supply for a time which is short but not sweet for the neighbours, but the same neighbours' waste pipes are gushing into our property (rather than into a proper drain - how did that happen?) and we have to reroute them. I don't know the upshot yet but I can see my kitchen budget being swallowed into pvc piping.
Then there seems to be a discrepancy about the ffl (finished floor levels for those readers who haven't been through this already), my groundworker working to one a whole 75mm lower than the plans show and asking me to install that additional amount of insulation. Ummm, I don't think so, not at £28 per sheet of the stuff!
THEN he tells me he wouldn't ever touch liquid screed again after a disastrous first attempt with it. Do I listen? Do I spend four MORE hours online finding reviews? Yes, in fact I do.
But let's not panic. No, really, let's not. For what's the worst that can happen? As my yogi said the other day: There are only three things in life which are real - God, the universe and me; everything else, because it changes and is transient, is not real. So rather than panic, I'm going to stick with reality, for the first time in my life, and have another cup of tea.
Anyway, let's not get ahead of ourselves here. Day one, tick. Problem one, tick. Sigh. The lovely foreman was philosophical about it while I jittered at the edge of the hole (and, it must be said, sanity by this stage) but we've hit our first problem. Problems, actually. Not only do they have to move the neighbour's water pipe, thereby having to cut the supply for a time which is short but not sweet for the neighbours, but the same neighbours' waste pipes are gushing into our property (rather than into a proper drain - how did that happen?) and we have to reroute them. I don't know the upshot yet but I can see my kitchen budget being swallowed into pvc piping.
Then there seems to be a discrepancy about the ffl (finished floor levels for those readers who haven't been through this already), my groundworker working to one a whole 75mm lower than the plans show and asking me to install that additional amount of insulation. Ummm, I don't think so, not at £28 per sheet of the stuff!
THEN he tells me he wouldn't ever touch liquid screed again after a disastrous first attempt with it. Do I listen? Do I spend four MORE hours online finding reviews? Yes, in fact I do.
But let's not panic. No, really, let's not. For what's the worst that can happen? As my yogi said the other day: There are only three things in life which are real - God, the universe and me; everything else, because it changes and is transient, is not real. So rather than panic, I'm going to stick with reality, for the first time in my life, and have another cup of tea.
Monday, 7 November 2011
Wise words
Not from me, but from the person whose opinion I respect and trust most. Here is an excerpt from her reply to my last post's question:
In negotiation, there's a thing called BATNA - best alternative to negotiated agreement. In other words, if I don't get something out of the negotiation, where does that leave me? In your case: if I don't get this kitchen, where does that leave me? If I choose this wallpaper, where does that leave me?
Bearing in mind that 'nothing is so good it lasts eternally', you should probably just go with your gut. In your case, a well-informed and therefore very trustworthy one. Also: how happy does a kitchen counter make you if it's not filled with kids' lunches, birthday cupcakes and my mince pies? Get good, solid basics (they don't have to be the best as long as they are durable) and sort the rest out with accessories. Or something.
It ends where YOU decide it ends. Not necessarily because you are certain that there is something better (yet), but because you know that what you have chosen is good enough.
Now pour yourself a glass, willya, and relax! You'll make good decisions - not always great, perfect, fantabulous or perfect, but since when was good not good enough?
Okay, I'm done. Cheers!
In negotiation, there's a thing called BATNA - best alternative to negotiated agreement. In other words, if I don't get something out of the negotiation, where does that leave me? In your case: if I don't get this kitchen, where does that leave me? If I choose this wallpaper, where does that leave me?
Bearing in mind that 'nothing is so good it lasts eternally', you should probably just go with your gut. In your case, a well-informed and therefore very trustworthy one. Also: how happy does a kitchen counter make you if it's not filled with kids' lunches, birthday cupcakes and my mince pies? Get good, solid basics (they don't have to be the best as long as they are durable) and sort the rest out with accessories. Or something.
It ends where YOU decide it ends. Not necessarily because you are certain that there is something better (yet), but because you know that what you have chosen is good enough.
Now pour yourself a glass, willya, and relax! You'll make good decisions - not always great, perfect, fantabulous or perfect, but since when was good not good enough?
Okay, I'm done. Cheers!
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Choices and choices and choices ...
... what do they MEAN?
Well, for one thing they mean endless surfing (not of the marine variety, more's the pity), store visits, trade show attendances and talking. Talking about quality and warranties. Talking about prices and availability. Talking about suitability and discounts. Oh my goodness, if I had a penny for every hour I've spent doing my research for OPH, I could have paid off my mortgage already.
And that's the paradox of modern life, isn't it? On one hand, we have so much choice we are undoubtedly able to find exactly what we want for the price we can afford. Economics the only way I understand it. On the other hand, we spend so much time looking for a more suitable/cost effective alternative to the zillions we've already found, surely our stress levels reach combustible proportions? It's exciting, to say the least, to find the front door that makes your heart beat faster or a deal on wooden flooring to put a smile on your mortgage lender's face .
But where does it all end? Do I simply choose the nth one and draw a line under it? Do I toss a coin? Do I literally exhaust all options before making that all important decision or simply make one and stop looking (for fear of self recrimination)?
Seriously, I want to know.
Well, for one thing they mean endless surfing (not of the marine variety, more's the pity), store visits, trade show attendances and talking. Talking about quality and warranties. Talking about prices and availability. Talking about suitability and discounts. Oh my goodness, if I had a penny for every hour I've spent doing my research for OPH, I could have paid off my mortgage already.
And that's the paradox of modern life, isn't it? On one hand, we have so much choice we are undoubtedly able to find exactly what we want for the price we can afford. Economics the only way I understand it. On the other hand, we spend so much time looking for a more suitable/cost effective alternative to the zillions we've already found, surely our stress levels reach combustible proportions? It's exciting, to say the least, to find the front door that makes your heart beat faster or a deal on wooden flooring to put a smile on your mortgage lender's face .
But where does it all end? Do I simply choose the nth one and draw a line under it? Do I toss a coin? Do I literally exhaust all options before making that all important decision or simply make one and stop looking (for fear of self recrimination)?
Seriously, I want to know.
Friday, 28 October 2011
With apologies to Ms Andrews
Handles and splashbacks and taps with spray hosesWindows of wood and a front door so stylish
Candles with scent to delight all our noses
Showers and kettles and colour that zingsThese are a few of my favourite things
Tiles, carpets, floorboards in textures delicious
Underfloor heating, the staircase's strings
These are a few of my favourite things
When the rain pours
And the snow falls
When they cause delays
I'll simply remember my favourite things
And re-organise
The days
Wardrobes that fit under eaves between trusses
Dormers and roof lights and blinds without fusses
Pricey but gorgeous, the slate worktop sings
These are a few of my favourite things
Friends who help out with a paintbrush or hammer
Tradespeople working sans problem or murmur
Guests coming over, we're celebrating
That surely is my most favourite thing!
Kitchens
Well, this isn't easy to admit, to myself least of all, but I've been scammed. See previous post about frantic online searching and bargains, but the gist is: I signed up - by handing over £100 cash - for a kitchen that wasn't enormously cheaper than Ikea's but cheaper nonetheless (what I'm getting at is, to me it wasn't out of the realm of possibility) and it looks like it wasn't the best possible use of those readies.
Nothing's been proved yet, but at the back of my mind since Tuesday when the lovely salesman/designer left (after two hours, which doesn't seem like a great ROI for his time, but anyway) has been the niggling thought that it's too good to be true. The spiel was right and I agreed to see him only after doing my research on the company, which turned up nothing negative. His design is spot on - and if nothing else I can apply it anywhere - and my philosophy was that if the units cost just a fraction of the cost of those elsewhere (and by 'elsewhere' I mean high street, not bespoke) then we could happily fork out for the fantabulous Welsh slate worktops we covet.
Anyway, Himself's just turned up a string of reviews about the company, which post evidence of them being less than savoury. Nothing suggests per se that we won't get the kitchen, but there are enough negative words written than make me wonder if it will ever turn up, and if it does if it will be worthy of being fitted in my lovely new home. I don't think I can spend the next couple of months worrying about it, particularly when I have a few other (probably more pressing) worries, such as the actual foundations and house.
So it's time to notch that one up to experience, and back to Ikea I go. Ho ho.
Nothing's been proved yet, but at the back of my mind since Tuesday when the lovely salesman/designer left (after two hours, which doesn't seem like a great ROI for his time, but anyway) has been the niggling thought that it's too good to be true. The spiel was right and I agreed to see him only after doing my research on the company, which turned up nothing negative. His design is spot on - and if nothing else I can apply it anywhere - and my philosophy was that if the units cost just a fraction of the cost of those elsewhere (and by 'elsewhere' I mean high street, not bespoke) then we could happily fork out for the fantabulous Welsh slate worktops we covet.
Anyway, Himself's just turned up a string of reviews about the company, which post evidence of them being less than savoury. Nothing suggests per se that we won't get the kitchen, but there are enough negative words written than make me wonder if it will ever turn up, and if it does if it will be worthy of being fitted in my lovely new home. I don't think I can spend the next couple of months worrying about it, particularly when I have a few other (probably more pressing) worries, such as the actual foundations and house.
So it's time to notch that one up to experience, and back to Ikea I go. Ho ho.
Mania
Yes, yes, I'm still here. So sorry I've been silent for so long; I know you've missed me, but I've been so up to my eyeballs (on a good day) with actually DOING the work that's it been difficult to find five minutes to write about it. However, here I am with a couple of lines.
So! Weeks and weeks of being buried under paperwork and inside my Mac have resulted in a highly flammable project manager (moi), three children deprived of attention and a husband whose new favourite meal is pizza (concession: I buy them from Asda and add lots of fab toppings AND serve with a homemade salad, so don't shoot me). I have, in this time, revised part of the plans; approved the underfloor heating design; spent at least 17 gazillion hours online poring over kitchens, bathrooms, tiles and other flooring, fenestration and doors; found trades; had the water connected and arranged for the electricity and gas to be; and more.
I have discovered that not only is there an endless supply of absolutely everything, but also that I am unable to resist a bargain. For the former, the solution will be (when I have exhausted my patience, which surprisingly is yet to come) to draw a line under the work and choose - kitchen, bathroom bits (quelle surprise, I can't find a complete set at any one store), floors, doors, the works. This is going to be the toughest part of the job, I think, as at the back of my mind is a little person trying furiously to convince me that there's a better deal to be had just around the corner/on the next site down the google list. I'm determined to ignore him.
For the second problem, the one about being unable to resist a bargain, see my next post. Hey, gotta keep you keen, innit?
So! Weeks and weeks of being buried under paperwork and inside my Mac have resulted in a highly flammable project manager (moi), three children deprived of attention and a husband whose new favourite meal is pizza (concession: I buy them from Asda and add lots of fab toppings AND serve with a homemade salad, so don't shoot me). I have, in this time, revised part of the plans; approved the underfloor heating design; spent at least 17 gazillion hours online poring over kitchens, bathrooms, tiles and other flooring, fenestration and doors; found trades; had the water connected and arranged for the electricity and gas to be; and more.
I have discovered that not only is there an endless supply of absolutely everything, but also that I am unable to resist a bargain. For the former, the solution will be (when I have exhausted my patience, which surprisingly is yet to come) to draw a line under the work and choose - kitchen, bathroom bits (quelle surprise, I can't find a complete set at any one store), floors, doors, the works. This is going to be the toughest part of the job, I think, as at the back of my mind is a little person trying furiously to convince me that there's a better deal to be had just around the corner/on the next site down the google list. I'm determined to ignore him.
For the second problem, the one about being unable to resist a bargain, see my next post. Hey, gotta keep you keen, innit?
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