Renoenvy Is Best Served Cold
When you open the door of your refrigerator, a light comes on, but the change to the temperature in there is negligible. This morning, we awoke to the still chill of minus 8 degrees Celsius; the sun slowly rose in a clear sky, but the change in temperature has been negligible... as far as my fingers are concerned. We are now experiencing the hot peak of the day, 3 degrees Celsius, but cold is cold. And my fingers are icicles.
This pervasive iciness slows the renovation process. Constant stops for steaming mugs of tea, cupped in thinsulated hands, are essential. Jobs outdoors are only for the extremely tough, and we don't have any of that type here at the moment. I did manage to load and wheelbarrow several piles of tiles from one inappropriate spot to another yesterday, but this was possibly to convince myself that I was doing something, rather than actually doing something that needed doing.
Our fellow renovating friends (legends), Sue and Steve, have again left us feeling inadequate. While we were away for Christmas, they have miraculously converted a little stone ruin into a heated home with an upstairs that has walls marking out separate rooms and other enviable wonders. There's also a new stone path leading to the front door. Sue did that on her own, and that makes me feel even more indelibly useless. Before we even saw how much they'd achieved in our absence, Kevin and I had been discussing Sue and Steve's work ethic, and we resolved to organise our renovating days (every day) in the same disciplined way that they clearly do. But we still find ourselves asking, 'How do they do it?' How DO they do it? We need to find out. They may drink less tea.
We've been fluff-puffing and plaster-boarding the last few tricky parts of the kitchen walls and recesses. We've also been double-lagging pipes to reduce the risk of freezing. It's helped with the bathroom basin cold tap, which we managed to get running this morning.
One major reason for not so much getting done is our newest recruit, little Merlin. Now ten weeks old, he requires a lot of play, training and cuddling. He still sleeps a lot, but for shorter spells, so we need to get a renorush on when he's in his cushioned boudoir napping. Clearly everything we've fed him so far has gone to his legs... Look at them! They've doubled in length since last week! He is such an easy pup to train; he can already respond appropriately to Sit, Down and Come. We're still working on Stay. And learning to walk on a lead in a normal fashion is ongoing; he does improve every day, but he's still rocking a Jaggeresque wiggle.
Merlin came from a litter of three bitches and three dogs. All of the bitches look like Border Collies (Mum) and all of the dogs look like German Shepherds (Dad). I thought this was a Lady and the Tramp fiction when it comes to pups, but no. It's a canine truth. If you hold Merlin's ears up, he looks like a miniature German Shepherd.
This pervasive iciness slows the renovation process. Constant stops for steaming mugs of tea, cupped in thinsulated hands, are essential. Jobs outdoors are only for the extremely tough, and we don't have any of that type here at the moment. I did manage to load and wheelbarrow several piles of tiles from one inappropriate spot to another yesterday, but this was possibly to convince myself that I was doing something, rather than actually doing something that needed doing.
Our fellow renovating friends (legends), Sue and Steve, have again left us feeling inadequate. While we were away for Christmas, they have miraculously converted a little stone ruin into a heated home with an upstairs that has walls marking out separate rooms and other enviable wonders. There's also a new stone path leading to the front door. Sue did that on her own, and that makes me feel even more indelibly useless. Before we even saw how much they'd achieved in our absence, Kevin and I had been discussing Sue and Steve's work ethic, and we resolved to organise our renovating days (every day) in the same disciplined way that they clearly do. But we still find ourselves asking, 'How do they do it?' How DO they do it? We need to find out. They may drink less tea.
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| Cottage #1 |
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| Towards the South |
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| Towards the top barn |
One major reason for not so much getting done is our newest recruit, little Merlin. Now ten weeks old, he requires a lot of play, training and cuddling. He still sleeps a lot, but for shorter spells, so we need to get a renorush on when he's in his cushioned boudoir napping. Clearly everything we've fed him so far has gone to his legs... Look at them! They've doubled in length since last week! He is such an easy pup to train; he can already respond appropriately to Sit, Down and Come. We're still working on Stay. And learning to walk on a lead in a normal fashion is ongoing; he does improve every day, but he's still rocking a Jaggeresque wiggle.
Merlin came from a litter of three bitches and three dogs. All of the bitches look like Border Collies (Mum) and all of the dogs look like German Shepherds (Dad). I thought this was a Lady and the Tramp fiction when it comes to pups, but no. It's a canine truth. If you hold Merlin's ears up, he looks like a miniature German Shepherd.
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