Rage Against the Latrine!
Welcome, our lovely friends, to the latest project at chez
Clements.
Ok, I’ll stop now…let’s pick up where we left off.
The toilet’s tiles had been removed and so had the minging
vanity cabinet, shower cubicle and tray. The walls had been made good with
hydro plasterboard and Simon had built a frame for the new shower and airing
cupboard.
He had also fitted special waterproof led lights to the
ceiling and made some shelves for the airing cupboard.
And also built up the wall, ready for a shelf to take the
sink, and boxed in the window alcove.
Whilst we were out gathering more DIY supplies our local
farmer, from the hamlet, dropped us off a modest pile of cow manure for the
veggie patch.
I got over-excited at being able to tackle an outdoor job
but it’s going to have to wait. Initially, it was frozen, so unliftable! And
then it was so waterlogged I couldn’t really spread it…anyway, I’ve got plenty
of jobs waiting for me in the room of ablutions.
Simon was panelling the walls in the lobby and toilet. I
cracked on with painting the doors.
These are probably the least inspiring doors I’ve ever seen,
but, they fit, and as we’ve previously discussed here, one of Simon’s least
favourite jobs is door hanging. Other DIY jobs have also been added to this
list, but we’ll cover these a bit later.
First, this delight in a sickly sea green needed sanding.
And these hideous mahogany monstrosities around the door needed
whitening, so they wouldn’t take too many coats of paint.
Simon had removed the loo and panelled the walls at warp speed, he’s an old hand at it now.
A rank, before picture.
Infinitely better, after.
He had also finished in the little lobby, outside the toilet
and bathroom.
We had decided to make the small alcove in the lobby into a
storage cupboard for loo rolls and cleaning products. Plus, this gives me a
window sill for some plants, which is the most important thing really.
Simon disappeared into The Bat Cave, and hey presto!
That’ll hold loads of plants!
I am slowly having to build up my plant collection again
because I had to leave them in the UK. The truck and trailer were too full of
Simon’s workshop paraphernalia, if you remember rightly, and the remainder of
the house’s contents had to go into storage, so I was unable to bring them with
me.
Luckily, the children, who are now the official plant guardians, are green-fingered too and I have a few cuttings that they managed to smuggle over last summer.
Once again, I’ve digressed…when I had given all the wood a
coat of watered-down white emulsion, Simon could get on with laying the new
floor.
We had a real stroke of luck with the flooring. On one of
our many varied DIY shopping excursions, we found a stock clearance pile of
ceramic floor tiles, at only €10 a pack! Result!
This was mathematically trickier than I could ever hope to
fathom. As we have found to our consternation, nothing is square or at a
right-angle, so Simon had to draw a line from the front of the lobby into the
bathroom and follow that as everything else was on the wonk.
I know it looks skewed from this angle, but hang on…
Now it looks straight…phew!
Once the floor was laid in the toilet, I could start to
paint the top-coat.
I had also blithely announced to Simon that wallpapering
above the panelling would look brilliant and would be a cinch, when we’d been
discussing decoration. And indeed, wallpapering square walls are just that,
it’s not such a bad job if you’ve got all the right equipment.
We had decided on the grey for the wood as it flowed really well from the kitchen, and was neutral enough to go with my cranky choice of wallpaper. I only needed two rolls for the entire job, so with that in mind and the added bonus of a sale, I bought some, originally, pricey paper.
The toilet actually was a breeze, the paper was excellent
quality and easy to cut and work with.
The paper is called The Strawberry Thief by William Morris.
He was a British textile designer, born in 1834 and a poet, novelist,
translator and, best of all a social activist! #lifegoals
One of his more famous quotes was “Have nothing in your
house that you do not know to be useful, or believe to be beautiful.” So at
least we both know where we stand now…
We’ve actually attached the toilet now, for those hawk-eyed
readers amongst you, and put up a shelf.
I had foolishly been lulled into a false sense of security
with the WC. I was about to attempt The Lobby of Doom where nothing was
straight or level…
Some arithmetic was called for with angles and stuff…. wtaf
is that all about? I can’t do geometry!
In a style that Simon would appreciate, I proceeded to
swear, shout and I might have had a little bout of temper crying. I did, a one
point, pull a piece of paper from the wall with a vicious tug and kick it
around the kitchen.
I have found that in these situations, a cup of tea is an
essential calming down beverage. Twenty minutes and a PG Tips later, I returned
to the coal face.
It wasn’t a remotely enjoyable experience, apart from the
rhomboid window reveal, the ceiling was at two different heights, but I’m known
for being ever so slightly stubborn so tenacity triumphed eventually.
All I can say is, at least I wasn’t tiling the bathroom…it
sounded horrific in there.
I’m going to maintain the suspense a little longer folks and
capture your attention with our newly acquired piece of unusual furniture.
This is called an établi de sabotier, or clog-makers
bench. We have no idea how old it actually is, but I have found others for sale
which are around 100 years old, and they look space-age modern in comparison to
this one.
The profession of clog making has practically disappeared
now. They were, for a very long time one of the main craftspeople in
countryside life. They usually lived in the forests, near a stream and a supply
of suitable wood. Clogs were usually made of birch, beech or alder. Walnut was
used for making special occasion clogs!
The clogs were known as hooves and they were really
effective at insulating in the cold weather, the wide sole prevented the wearer
from sinking in the muddy ground. The clog maker always had plenty of work
apparently as a clog would only really last two to three months with continual
wear.
The clogs went out of fashion after WW2 and the introduction
of rubber soled boots.
This is a picture of a clog maker who lived in a forest
around 80 miles from us in a place called Bénévent-l’Abbaye.
Later in the 19thCentury the clog makers started
to move into the villages and set up small shops.
This is Laurière's clog shop circa 1910. https://chabatzdentrar.blog4ever.com/le-sabotier
Please don’t start emailing me with clog requests, I have no
intention of putting the workbench to use, although I think it might host a few
games of Scrabble in its new incarnation.
So, shall we return to the tenacious tiling trooper, that is Simon?
I didn’t actually say this to him…I think his head would
have exploded…
Since the completion of the bathroom there has been an announcement of grandiose proportions, and I quote
“I am never, ever fucking
tiling any poxy thing ever again” (Clements, 2021).
Fairly succinct and to the point, I think.
So, here it is…
The only thing we’re waiting for is a light to go above the
mirror. Which was a bargain by the way…€6 for the frame in a second-hand shop
and €8
for a mirror cut to size at our local Brico.
Now we just have to hope that any visitors we get won’t clog
the toilet!!
See you all soon!
That looks amazing. As usual, you both show a fabulous work ethic alongside great design skills. Well done to you both.❤
ReplyDeleteThank you Sue xxx
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