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Don't ask me, I'm just the cash cow
We have a tiler beavering away in the kitchen whilst I cower in the bedroom with Husband and three cats. He is very old, and has borrowed Husband for more than a few bits of help, some of which involved a jackhammer. Husband is not a jackhammer kind of guy.
I'm mildly disturbed by the extra questions this afternoon, most of which seem designed to minimise the amount of cutting required, and maximise the amount of patching and finishing I have to do. Poor kitchen, it's going to be a long long time before I can declare it finished. At least he hasn't asked the same thing twice.
I've just had a little word about the messy bit up to ceiling level where new tiles meet the remains of old cornice amongst the ruins of the former cupboard. At first sight I'd thought that the bare brick underneath the cupboard was the remains of a former feature wall. Not quite so, for while the bricks are identical, the mortar roughens about four courses from the ceiling. It was either always covered, or was added later.
I'm a big fan of Time Team, and love signs of continuous occupation back to the neolithic ("Look at that slightly darker mud! The remains of a curved ditch!"), but I'm finding the concentrated history of tinkerage with casa mia a little disconcerting.
Back to the little chat with The Help, I was under the impression that the tiles would go up to the top of the wall and then the new cornice would be laid over the top. That's how they asked to do it in the bathroom. Granted, this would have involved the tiler removing a bit more cornice, for I neglected to get the kitchen guy to remove quite enough... However, no, the tiler wants to finish at the old cornice line. Hopefully the ceiling squirrels will cope. It seems to be some kind of race to not be the last tradesman and thus responsible for the neat bits.
"You need a plasterer for that. No, the other kind."
"You need a roof carpenter for that. I'm a tiler."
"You need a ceiling fixer for that. I'm a wall gyprocker."
"Sorry, you'll need a roof plumber. I'm a surgical nurse."
*blink*
The tiler will get his way, and I must remain tearfully grateful for whatever service he chooses to provide. I hate it when I fail to bond with a tradesman :-(
UPDATE: I have bonded with the tradesman :-) . Helped, I suspect, by my offer of labour for tomorrow. Now a small patch has been done I can also dare to hope my formerly cold grey kitchen will actually look funky one day.
The ceiling squirrels have come over and have mentioned a couple of possible times to patch their sundry gaps and chunky bits. Could be done on Saturday if we're lucky, and they think they can recycle the cornice. Failing Saturday, could be Tuesday, so not a big wait.
I'm mildly disturbed by the extra questions this afternoon, most of which seem designed to minimise the amount of cutting required, and maximise the amount of patching and finishing I have to do. Poor kitchen, it's going to be a long long time before I can declare it finished. At least he hasn't asked the same thing twice.
I've just had a little word about the messy bit up to ceiling level where new tiles meet the remains of old cornice amongst the ruins of the former cupboard. At first sight I'd thought that the bare brick underneath the cupboard was the remains of a former feature wall. Not quite so, for while the bricks are identical, the mortar roughens about four courses from the ceiling. It was either always covered, or was added later.
I'm a big fan of Time Team, and love signs of continuous occupation back to the neolithic ("Look at that slightly darker mud! The remains of a curved ditch!"), but I'm finding the concentrated history of tinkerage with casa mia a little disconcerting.
Back to the little chat with The Help, I was under the impression that the tiles would go up to the top of the wall and then the new cornice would be laid over the top. That's how they asked to do it in the bathroom. Granted, this would have involved the tiler removing a bit more cornice, for I neglected to get the kitchen guy to remove quite enough... However, no, the tiler wants to finish at the old cornice line. Hopefully the ceiling squirrels will cope. It seems to be some kind of race to not be the last tradesman and thus responsible for the neat bits.
"You need a plasterer for that. No, the other kind."
"You need a roof carpenter for that. I'm a tiler."
"You need a ceiling fixer for that. I'm a wall gyprocker."
"Sorry, you'll need a roof plumber. I'm a surgical nurse."
*blink*
The tiler will get his way, and I must remain tearfully grateful for whatever service he chooses to provide. I hate it when I fail to bond with a tradesman :-(
UPDATE: I have bonded with the tradesman :-) . Helped, I suspect, by my offer of labour for tomorrow. Now a small patch has been done I can also dare to hope my formerly cold grey kitchen will actually look funky one day.
The ceiling squirrels have come over and have mentioned a couple of possible times to patch their sundry gaps and chunky bits. Could be done on Saturday if we're lucky, and they think they can recycle the cornice. Failing Saturday, could be Tuesday, so not a big wait.