Week eight - the white goods have landed

How exciting.  How exciting.  Exciting!  

This week is the beginning of the interior.  Things are starting to go into our used-to-be-horrible completely white box.

Exciting!

First, we now have some (white) shelves in our (white) cupboards in the (white) bedrooms!

Now, these shelves might not look terrifically interesting to you, but their configuration was the subject of several arguments between me and Rob, so you'd better appreciate them.

The other half of the cupboards will have hanging rails:

They were less controversial, so you are free to think what you like about them.

Continuing with the excitement upstairs, we now have a bath and toilet!  

Now then, an important lesson folks.

I have learnt on this epic Grand Designs style journey, that several things in houses that you thought you knew the name of, you actually don't.  Or rather, if you use the names that you thought were the normal ones to use, you will be instantly exposed as a Kevin McCloud stalking fake, a DIY disaster zone, an interior design faker.

We don't have a bath and toilet, we have sanitaryware.

And, more excitingly for the poor builders than us, the toilet sanitaryware is fully functional.

(Don't think too hard about what they have been doing for the past eight weeks.  I'm trying not to).

Moving downstairs, and surpassing the sanitaryware in excitement levels from me, is the arrival of the kitchen units:

Don't worry, those ones above that look like the square white cousins of the daleks, convening an evil world-takeover plotting meeting, are actually upside down.   

Here are their brothers, confusingly stationed in the sitting room (presumably not permanently, although the builders might be forgiven for some confusion as the kitchen was delivered without a plan for putting it together, making the construction rather like the Ikea version of the Krypton Factor).

And here's the fridge, freezer, and washing machine.  In the library.  With the candlestick.

I have a feeling that the lack of a design plan and the delivery of several incorrect units is only the beginning of a long kitchen-installation saga, because we've also discovered that, just to make things even more tricky, one of the walls is wonky.  Of course.

Demonstrated here by the whacking great gap at the back of this cabinet.

Brilliant.

No builder's tea break news this week, so instead I will share with you my discovery of this:  

Nope, I haven't a clue either.

Week seven - Dante arrives in Nunhead

We were away again this weekend, so this week's blog is not only a bit late, but was also researched in the dark, so apologies for some of the off-kilter photos.

Rob had been to see the slum late last week, and so was keen to show me the major progress with the floor.  Here's our nice new sanded floor downstairs:

And here are the newly sanded stairs:

And here's the banister.

Don't panic anyone - it will all be washed white in due course.

Now, I won't bore you here with our tales of sanitary ware woe - lets focus on the positives, which are currently (limited to) this toilet:

And the bath:

Two things to explain here.

Firstly, we haven't gone crazy and ordered a cardboard bath, in some fit of over-zealous anti-consumerism recycling.

Secondly, I'm really hoping that Iliyan hasn't lost that vital bathroom plan, and hasn't accidentally installed the bath in the sitting room, because it's currently obstructing the space for the new dining table.

In other odd news, we started to wonder whether the builders were staging a protest against our plans for pretentiously arty light fittings, because they seem to have installed their own suggestions instead:

It was at about this point that we started to feel rather warm.  Not just warm, but properly toasty.  Really, really roasting.  

Turns out the underfloor heating definitely, definitely works.

Definitely.

Here it is.

It got progressively hotter as we moved upstairs, where we discovered the heat was so intense it had melted one of the builders:

It was honestly too hot to stick around for much longer, so I'll leave you with two final things.

An update on the tea break situation - the tea room has moved, and you will be interested to learn that, flying gently and delicately in the face of outdated builder stereotypes, your average builder in 2012 prefers a cup of raspberry, strawberry, and loganberry infusion to fuel him through the day:

And, perhaps due to the overwhelming heat haze, Rob seemed to go through the rabbit hole.  Has he shrunk?  Grown?  Or is it all an optical illusion?  And where is the vinegar?!

Week six - it's (almost) all white here

For our weekly slum inspection this week, we were met by a very pleased looking builder. 

And a Very Pleased Builder is a Very Good Thing.

He is pleased, because the upstairs is now largely white, which he has learnt will Please Rob.

And he is pleased, because it is time to put shelving and rails in the storage cupboards upstairs for all my tat extensive wardrobe, which he has learnt will Please Siobhan.

And We Are Pleased.

The bedrooms upstairs really do look fabulous.  Now all I have to do is figure out how many shelves I want.  

What will actually happen, of course, is:

1. Siobhan will suggest what design she would like for the inside of the cupboards.
2. Rob will listen to this suggestion, and respond with an completely poker face.
3. Siobhan will assume this is confirmation of agreement.
4. Over the coming weeks, Rob will say nothing, but using Jedi powers, Derren Brown Mind Control, and probably the Eye of Sauron, subtly impart his opinion for interior design into Siobhan's consciousness.
5. By the end of the project, Siobhan will find herself living in an empty, white box, with Rob saying 'but we decided this together, dear'.

*sigh*

Anyway, the bathrooms are coming on.  I hope someone knows what to do with this lot:

We have some lovely heated towel rails (no shower, toilet, sink or bath, but we will have warm towels).

I'm also relieved to report that health and safety has returned to the slum, as the banister has been replaced at the top of the stairs.  Now I can stop repeating 'Don't fall down the stairs don't fall down the stairs don't fall down the stairs don't fall down the stairs don't fall down the stairs' to myself every time I visit:

At the bottom of the stairs the minimalist encroachment stops. 

The kitchen is all ready for its Ikea make over.  Check out the UFH complexity, waiting to be plumbed in.  

And spot the architect.

 Now, this might seem like a very minor thing to most of you, but we are excited about this.

Not the yellow bucket.

Or Joao's legs.

But this section of floor downstairs hasn't been level, ever.

Now it is.

See, exciting!

And look how great that step is into the bike storage area.  I think the concept of making a step is so alien, so manly, so.... well, I couldn't do it.  So I'm finding this step quite exciting.

Gosh, that yellow bucket is keen on the limelight.

Outside, we are apparently taking a stance against the early arrival of Christmas in Nunhead.

See if you can spot the wreath (the origins of which are a complete mystery to me):

And finally, we still have some lovely (obviously not lovely enough to remain in the slum, but sacrifices had to be made for the UFH) original floorboards going spare.   

Week five - CSI Nunhead

We have been tagged.

Not this sort:

But this sort:

Look.

Now, I'm no expert, but I don't think that's Nunhead's answer to Banksy.

How rude.

If you recognise the scribble, do let our lovely Met officers know.

Anyway, still outside the slum we now find this rather distressing scene.

My now honed powers of forensic DIY crime scene investigation told me to PANIC and ask Rob what this was.

Obviously, this is the floor boards, removed in order to lay the underfloor heating, and waiting to see whether anyone in the vicinity wants to buy them from us.

Obviously.

And here, for your viewing pleasure, is the underfloor heating.

I feel somehow warmer, just knowing that the pipes are red.

Oooh, complex.

Not sure why the floorboards have red lines printed on them, but again, just knowing that they do makes me feel toasty.

The underfloor heating (now known trendily as 'the UFH' in our house) has also expanded into the scary cat mask room:

Into which the tea-room-area has also been moved.

Spot the vinegar.

Upstairs, things are progressing rapidly.  

WE HAVE DOORS!

LOOK, cupboard DOORS!

(Initial panic from Rob because they aren't white.  They will be painted white.  Phew.)

The rest of the room has now been painted...

(white) 

And just look at the transformation of this part of the room, which previously had a horrible fireplace full of ash:

Not only do we have cupboard doors, but we also have door doors:

Again, this is Rob worrying that they aren't white.

They will be.

Most of the walls upstairs already are:

So it's a bit annoying that this week the slum has been graffitied.  And not even in a groovy, trendy way (which I would totes be down with, obvs.).

To cheer us all up, here's a bonus window photo.