Plumbing pains (part two)

The water drainage into the lounge wasn't too bad and we were confident that it would dry out and not require too much redecorating, which the plumbers had said they would cover. They finished off connecting up the systems.

But the next day, we noticed that there was a large leak in the utility room. Followed shortly by a similar leak down a wall in the lounge, which was soaking the carpet. It turned out that in the course of drilling a hole in the external wall, they had accidentally drilled into the Soil and Vent Pipe for the house, so that was leaking down the side of the internal walls each time we had a shower, or potentially flushed the loo, but we don't want to think about that too closely at the moment.

Plumbing pains (part one)

So we've got some plumbers to do the job (Al's selection criteria was particularly rigorous - are you Scottish?). First day in and the new pressurised thingy (obviously I'm very clued-up when it comes to plumbing) was in place. The guys told us not to use the central heating, but we could use the hot water. Bit of a pain, but it's not quite winter draws yet, so we thought it was managable.

After the hot water had been on a little while, we heard a loud depressurising noise, so hastily turned off the hot water system. Had a poke around, but couldn't see anything obvious, so we just left it.

The next day, we noticed that there was a large puddle forming in the lounge ceiling, since the hot water hadn't been connected up, and every time we turned it on, it just poured straight out of the pipes onto the floor in the water tank housing, and then drained into the lounge. Class. We put pots down on the floor to collect it and waited for the plumbers to return.

Building pains

So we're having this loft conversion done, to give us more space without having to move and pay the iniquitous stamp duty. But it's not been a pain-free process.

Originally, we were specc-ed to have the squat cylindrical tanks sitting in the middle of the loft altered to be coffin tanks sat in the eaves. But first day on the job, the builder stated that coffin tanks wouldn't fit into the space allocated by the architect. We had a few plumbers look at it and they all concurred. So we were left with the option of stopping completely, or upgrading the entire system in the house to a pressurised one, at the increased cost of a few thousand. Ouch! The loft conversion company refused to meet us half-way on this one, so we're taking the hit ourselves. Key learning number one...

Google Hacks

I've stopped allowing anonymous comments since robots were dumping on them. If you want to comment, chances are you know me, so you can email me. Or you can just register and then comment normally.

I'm going to feedback to my blogging provider that maybe introducing image security to comments would be a good thing.

Basher: Me HUNGRY!

Got home later than planned the other day after furiously trying to get something delivered for a client. I think that's one thing Al won't miss once I return to Engineering.

Al hadn't eaten, so I started cooking some tasty pasta sauce and fresh pasta for her. I brought it upstairs to her, whereupon the Bash went downstairs to retrieve his knife, fork and spoon, then came back up and sat on the bed with an expectant grin. He doesn't like to be left out!

Growing old (dis)gracefully

See - not even into double figures with posting and already I'm struggling for titles. Just another notch in my blogging learning curve I suppose.

We went away for a weekend recently - a mate's thirtieth birthday do down in Bath. My brother went to Uni there, but I haven't been there for a while, so it was nice to go around the place as a tourist rather than a student binge drinker.

After putting the boys to bed, I went off to start the night. It started sedately enough until an old housemate started us on cocktails and I lost the plot somewhat. It's alright if you're a City media-type - you get used to heavy drinking. Parents of young children don't have the same tolerance, as I can testify. I somehow managed to last the pace, but was sorely damaged in the process. After getting back to the hotel, helped by the fact that my co-drinkers were staying at the same place, and bouncing off the walls a few times, I passed out.

Al woke me at 06:30 to leave; she's a light sleeper, so the combination of my drink-fuelled snoring and the boys doing their best as well had given her a rough night. We got back a couple of hours later and I crashed again, only to be woken by Callum at 12:30, and then the phone calls started to see if we were going to meet up with the others in Bath for a spot of breakfast. I don't think my voice has sounded that rough for a good ten years or so, and I was still sweating alcohol three days later. Can't take the pace! Oh well, I'll see how I get on at the next thirtieth, sometime in November.