It’s been a very exciting and unprecedentedly exhausting week (in my life, anyway) that has seen some amazing stuff happen (and some really lovely social evenings) but after a protracted preparation period where we worked til dusk most nights trying to get everything ready for the house to go on the foundations, we disappointingly didn’t get that far. Well, the house didn’t get that far. It got to the top of the wall.
The separating went well, except for the fact that the saw cut had gone one side of a floor joist next to the door, and the other side of it on the back of the building, so that needed hand sawing before the two pieces could be fork-lifted apart. Aside from that, though, it went like clockwork, and afforded this unusual view of the cross-section of a straw wall.
There was a bit of faff in getting it on some upturned 2x4s so that the forklift could get under it properly, and lets not mention when we realised that although the actual aperture of the door was plenty wide enough to get it out, the sliding door didn’t open to full width. Nothing a quick investigation couldn’t uncover the cause of and one, tiny, painless cut with a junior hacksaw couldn’t cure. I’m sure the gutter will stay up with only half of that particular bracket.
Once it was on the trailer bed, I ran ahead to the plot to get everything ready up there. I heard it get as far as the bend in the road, but it took some negotiating round the tight curves and between all the neighbours’ cars to get it facing the right way. I’ve never seen such skillful driving.
Meanwhile, the forklift was positioned in the driveway and the tractor was neatly parked just outside our land, leaving enough room for any but the timidest driver to get through. Unfortunately, one of our new neighbours turns out to be a very timid driver and he wasn’t very happy at the gap left and had a bit of a vent at me. Anyway, we got the building to the top of the drive and repositioned the forklift (with a strap round the building like a parcel and the forklift lifting from above) in order to try to lower it over the wall.
However, it was not to be, certainly not with a forklift as small and a half-building as heavy as the one we had. And in the process of finding that out, we bent the two extension tines of the forklift, rendering us unable to lift the building at all.
Ingenuity at the ready, we lifted one corner at a time to get it up on some of our trusty ceiling beams and slowly pivot it round to a reasonably sensible position where it could stay, on beams, covered with a tarp, until we could sort it out.
During the whole fiasco, the tractor had stayed at the bottom of the drive and while nobody else got stuck, one neighbour (self-described as “the grumpy neighbour”) took the opportunity to describe to me how this part of town was a little Shangri-La, a haven of quiet where people came so as not to be disturbed by heavy machinery and noise, and how the old name of the property had been a perfectly good name and a name that had been in the town for generations and was a very well respected name… you get the idea. He remained civil at all times but basically reduced our entire project to a bit of an interruption to his peace. I also remained very polite and expressed agreement with all the wonderful things he said about this neighbourhood and attempted to reassure him about all the things he was worried about, but I’m afraid to say, what with the stress of the day and possibly an unfortunate coincidence with a particular day in the month, I became a tiny bit tearful after the exchange. Just like those Grand Designs women you see. How humiliating.
However, the rest of the neighbours were extremely supportive, kind and understanding, including one from down the road whom I’d not met before who gave us drinks while we messed about with the trailer at the sharp bend (outside her house) and then wandered up and chatted with us later that day. She offered us the use of her outside tap for water (very useful) and gave me some of the oregano she had overgrowing her path.
Also currently scoring high in the neigbour stakes are Toby and Maisie, the kids across the street from our gates. Toby’s spent all his spare time with us, as far as I can tell, doing an amazing job of ramming tyres and carrying stuff around. And Maisie’s proved to be very good at pulling nails out and keeping fires going. They’re the ones who brought us the bilberries, and they’ve promised to show me where they grow.
On the subject of food, I’m feeling particularly grateful to Anna, who just returned from Italy with two blocks of cheese and a big chunk of prosciutto for us, in addition to her helping hand with the work. Under the influence of all that delicious, salty meat and cheese, we’ve decided that once we clear out the cellar under the bottom shed we’ll make it a meat-curing room. Possibly also cheese-making. Anna was also indispensible in the last hours of yesterday, once the second half of the building had been delivered, plus the middle floor section, which gave us a bit of trouble, everyone else had to go, Elmo was in bed trembling with fever, and Anna and I wrestled the tarps in place and pegged them out so as to keep the rain off the straw (crucial) in the forthcoming week of rain that’s forecast. By the end of it I was nearly fainting with exhaustion, but it felt so good to get it all to a plateau where it could be left for a few days while I went back to a world where running water comes out of taps (and hot water! No kettle even!) and lights don’t have to be lit with a match or run down your batteries. And Elmo can get under the electric blanket. He’s feeling better now, sitting up in bed and all. I think I will go bring him a cup of tea.
Things have been progressing as fast as they can, but you’d be surprised how long it takes to dig 10 holes down to subsoil and below it, and fill those holes with tyres rammed with pea gravel. Especially when nothing can be delivered to the site, it all gets delivered to the top of the wall and has to be taken down to the site by hand. We moved 1.5 tons of gravel in about half an hour.
A total of 4 tons has been delivered, and I’m hoping we will know how much (if any) more we need by Saturday morning so I can have it delivered. We really cannot leave this any longer.
I should be trying to get my head round how this will work once it’s on site, but I can’t even get my brain to think about it. I’m not even sure how we’re going to get the half-buildings onto the foundations, though we’re assuming it will entail the use of ramps and rollers (fenceposts!) and a whole lot of brute force.
Anyway, on a series of lighter notes, I’ve been really enjoying the crowds of blackbirds that have been picking over all the freshly turned earth for worms. They are quite bold and hop around the site cheeping at you as if to say “why have you stopped digging?”
We’ve also been enjoying the local butchers’ meats, including a couple of mornings of bacon, some sausages, and a very very good bit of steak with the teriyaki sauce I’m getting really good at now.
Alec and I finished painting the new sign. It was unclear whether we’d be allowed to, what with all the neighbours and passers-by who wanted to chat about the origin of the name and the techniques of sign-painting. The people around here are stupendously friendly. The more I think of it, the more I realise it’s quite similar to what I grew up with, in Vermont, but I’ve got a bit out of the habit, perhaps gone a bit native and now it feels quite fresh. Not that English people aren’t friendly normally, but there’s a social reserve that seems to have been shed (or maybe never developed) by people here. I love it. You get asked your name while chatting about your life to the ladies selling you sausages. I just feel really really at home. I love it here.
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