Ramblings of a Grouch

Having sorted out the details of getting new windows installed, I thought at the weekend I had better start preparing. First stop - the built-in cupboard in the corner. This is a beast that runs from the ceiling down to 4 feet off the ground (the washing machine sits beneath it). And it didn't want to be moved. If my house were to be demolished, the cupboard would be left sitting there in the middle of the garden, unmoved.

Most of it came quietly. The bits nailed to the wall didn't. I don't know why people insist on using nails. Screws are much more friendly - they can be unscrewed. Or drilled out. Nails that have been in place over 25 years cannot be removed by anything short of a thermonuclear device. In the end I resorted to splitting the wooden uprights with a chisel, prising each side away from the wall and removing the nails with a pair of vice grips. My kitchen looks a bit bigger now.

Next, the wallpaper and old tiles. Wallpaper off easily. Old tiles off easily. Filled a cardboard box with the bits. Do you know how heavy a box full of ceramic tiles is? I thought I had accidentally cemented it to the floor. Suffice to say I dragged it into the dining room ready for disposal later.

As always there was a hidden surprise behind the tiles. In particular, the vertical half tiles running along the back of the sink unit. First two tiles came off easily. Strange - there seems to be a strip of wood set into the wall where the tiles were. Third tile off. The wood now has a metallic glint at the edges. Metallic wood??

Further investigation with a scraper revealed the wood effect was actually 25 year old contact adhesive. The metallic effect was, well, metal. Stainless stel, in fact. The sink unit had a 2 inch turnup set into the wall. Removing the tiles revealed this turn up and also the start of the Grand Canyon.

I now have a deep hole running the length of the sink unit and I swear I can see my mate's house in Australia down there. So rather than 'out with the old, in with the new', there will be an interim stage of 'buy a cement factory, fill the chasm and wait for it to dry'.

Most of the jobs I have done on this project have been first time learning experiences and I've got away with it OK. Thinking about this sort of thing is worse than actually doing the job. I don't suppose this little setback will be any different, but I'll be glad when it's done.

Going back a few years, the phrase 'double glazing' would strike fear into the heart of any man. It conjured up images of incessant (and unwanted) phone calls, slimy spivs who would sell you two rolls of cling film and claim it was the latest lightweight product and salesmen who were still in the house at midnight despite the owners having retired to bed hours before.

No longer, I'm happy to say.

I rang two companies, told them I wouldn't haggle, their first quote stood and I would take the best deal - not necessarily the cheapest, but the best for me. I even told them who they would be up against. Well, I would have done except the first company I rang had an answerphone. As the time for quoting approached and I still had not heard back from this one, I rolled another company into the equation.

Then the first company rang back. The guy was away on business but could he come round to quote? On the way back from Ireland. Certainly, I told him. That's real commitment.

So I ended up with three quotes. Low price, middle price, higher price. All less than I expected. All perfectly acceptable. Damn!! I eventually chose the company tendering the lowest price, purely on the basis that it was the only one I could justify accepting, though to be truthful I would have been happy to accept any of them.

So Daryl from Belvoir Windows arrived at the weekend to do a full measuring service and sort out the details. (White, gold or silver handles? White, please. How about black for the front door? Is that a choice, too?) He gave me the impression he could remove an old window with his left hand and fit the new with his right hand. All whilst doing the Times crossword. He was confident, he gave me confidence in him and he knows his job inside out (and, hopefully, right way round).

Then I thought I'd better get things prepared. Sunday I removed a cupboard. Monday I stripped the wallpaper and the old tiles. Saying it like that makes it sound so easy. Ha!!!

I'll write about that next time.

So, bank interest rates are rubbish at the moment due to the state of the UK (un)economy. Maybe I should use the money in one of my accounts for household improvements? Seeing Northern Rock (the bank 'looking after' my tax-free account) in the news again clinched it. I'll close the account, lose very little interest and see something for my money.

Northern Rock were in the news a while back for getting bailed out at the taxpayers' (i.e. my) expense. Then it was in the news again for giving the staff bonuses just for doing their job. This time it was at the customers' (i.e. my) expense.

"No more!!" i cried and sent a blistering letter outlining my opinion of the NR management, my bank book and a request to close the account immediately. That's better!

Two weeks later I rang to find out where my money was. "Where's my money?" I said. "Where's your bank book?" the lady replied. "I sent it two weeks ago!". "We haven't seen it!!". "Then it must have got lost in the post!!!". I then ran out of exclamation marks.

She promised to send some forms in the post so I could verify I no longer had the bank book. Considering she had grilled me for hours about who I was, when (if?) I was born, mother's maiden name, amount in the account, shoe size, inside leg, just to prove I was who I said I was, I thought that was a bit over the top. Anyway, I agreed to sign and return the forms when they arrived.

Except they didn't. The following week I rang again. "Where are my forms?". "We posted them last week. Haven't you got them?". "No!!". Another set were to be sent. I requested they send them by registered post so they could be tracked.

I was just about to ring again when a card arrived on my doormat. 'Do you know you aren't in? And by the way, theres a letter waiting at the Post Office for you'. Great - I had to go to the town centre after work, find a parking space the vegetables (or taxi drivers) hadn't set up home in, and sign for my forms. At least they had arrived.

Fill in the first form. Check all the details are correct. Look up my account number. Look up my National Insurance number. Check inside leg measurement. Read last line on form - 'To be used when transferring funds to a different Northern Rock account'. Screw form up and start second form.

Complete second form and send by registered post. Ha!! That will teach them! Though I suppose there is someone in their office during the day.

Finally, the following week I get a phone call. Who am I? What's my inside leg's maiden name? How many mothers did I have? Until finally, how did I want my money?

"Quickly" turned out to be the wrong answer. I could either have a cheque posted out (oh yeah?) or else have the funds transferred electronically to my current account. "Electronic, please" I answered, politeness stemming from the fact that the end was in sight. "Certainly sir, there will be a £35 charge for that."

Just what am I missing here? To write a cheque, get it signed by a director, put it in an envelope, take it to the Post Office and drop it in the box costs nothing. To press a key and click a mouse costs £35??? I want a job where I just click a mouse all day long. Anyway, I agreed to pay the fee and the money was in my account by the time I got home.

And finally I was allowed to spend my own money.

I wouldn't say Northern Rock are inefficient. And I wouldn't say my true feelings due to libel laws. Suffice to say the troubles are in the past now.

Although last week I got a letter from a debt collection agency demanding I pay off someone else's debt immediately. I reckon someone has got it in for me. Even though I don't believe in him ...

Back on the air again!

We had a little whoopsie with the blog but thanks to good old Bill (well, maybe not so old) we're as good as new. I owe you one, mate!!

I know it's only been 5 months since I finished the first half of the kitchen but things are moving again - I got quotes for the new windows. Three quotes in fact - a low quote, a middling quote and a higher quote. All three are less than I budgeted for.

So, which one to pick?

The lowest, of course. Except there must be a reason why it is the lowest. The middle one, then. Although, unlike the other two, the guy who quoted is not actually skilled in doing the job. Maybe that doesn't matter, maybe it does. Oh, alright then, I'll take the highest quote. But I can't justify that to myself. Why oh why didn't I just get one quote and have done with it?

No, definitely take the lowest. But then ....

Does anyone have the phone number for the Procrastinators' Society?