Saga of the Wiring

One thing about owning a flat: I no longer wake up and wonder about what I should do today. I wonder about whether I should fix the thing that needs fixing around the house today, or ignore it and do something else (there is ALWAYS something that needs fixing around the house, this seems to be a law of houses that no-one told me about).

Today it was the turn of the electrician. The back garden has a light which doesn't work, making it the world's ugliest wall ornament. I asked the landlord of the upstairs flat's housemate who is an electrician and all-around DIY genius* to have a look at it.

He came round, fitted the new light, and pressed the switch. Nothing happened. He said "Hmm."

This is not a good sound to hear from an electrician. It's almost as bad as "You'd better sit down". I have actually heard this once before from an electrician, namely the firm I hired to check the electrics prior to me buying my flat. They rang me and began the conversation with "You'd better sit down". The last time I heard an electrician say this, it was to my parents, and the entire house needed rewiring - two weeks, £2000, and hoovering plaster dust for a month afterwards. I sat down.

Electrician: "You know how electrical systems are meant to have earthing?"

Me: "Yes, I understand that's quite important."

Electrician: "Well, that one doesn't."

£700 later, the wiring in my flat was earthed.

This situation proved less expensive, but more frustrating. Landlord's DIY Genius Housemate, hereafter referred to as G, poked and prodded the lightswitch for half an hour, whilst I went through the paperwork for when I had the electrics done. We eventually found that the lightswitch is connected to the light (good), but the neutral wire is disconnected (bad). I sincerely wish I could have a conversation with whoever did the wiring for my flat before I bought it, although I fear it might begin with "Tell me, did you train the monkeys before you let them loose with the screwdrivers?"

G had to leave to fix a floor in Wallsend, so we agreed he'd come back next week with some heavy-duty electrician's gear. As he said when he left, rather plaintively, "I did not think fixing a light would be quite this complicated."

Me neither, G.

* yes, this is the same fellow who was responsible for solving the World's Least Interesting DIY Saga, when I couldn't find the stopcock for the flat. Not only could I not find it, my friend's ex-plumber husband could not find it, my parents couldn't find it, the chap who came round to fix the central heating boiler couldn't find it. Eventually, G came round, traced the pipes through the house, and the stopcock was discovered under the false bottom of the cupboard in the living room. Natch.

Unexpected Guest

So, I was clearing out the garden today...

Garden may be overstating it somewhat. I have a back yard which was overgrown with ivy, and a bit at the front which is largely inhabited by a Triffid. It's actually a Yucca Plant, but no-one calls it that. It is so big that before buying my flat, I actually asked the estate agent to confirm that I would own the front garden, so that Triffid-removal could take place unimpeded. Its sole advantage is that it's impossible for people to miss my flat when visiting for the first time: "Look for the Triffid on the left" always seems to work.

Having always lived in shared houses with little in the way of gardens, I know slightly less than naff-all about gardening. Fortunately, help was on hand in the form of the Best Friend, the Best Friend's Husband, and the Best Friend's Adorable Cute Baby. The latter was no use at all at gardening, but extremely good at being cute and entertaining. (Although he has developed the ability to roll off things, rather than staying put, which adds to that feeling of slight worry I always feel when encountering a small cute child - along the lines of "Please don't injure yourself if I turn my eyes away for a millisecond".)

They arrived with secateurs, a couple of buckets, and a fork, and attacked the overgrown ivy and honeysuckle with a will. I was using the fork to rake away chopped-up ivy and dead leaves from one of the beds at the back, when I saw something which, at first, looked like a dried-up pine cone. Then I realised it was breathing!

We had inadvertantly uncovered a hibernating hedgehog in the back garden. I had no idea the little chap was there. I'm rather glad we found him (or her) before we could start digging around, as he was so well-buried, serious injury could have occurred. I quickly inspected the little fellow to ensure I hadn't clipped him with the fork, then piled all the dead leaves back on, and labelled them for good measure.

I'll be keeping an eye on the little fellow, and rather hope that I might get a sighting when he finally decides to rejoin us.

Quest for a New Home

Starts today. In the old days, I suppose this involved going out and chopping down a tree, then sawing it up into planks and joists, then making some bricks and building a wall, or something of that sort.

These days it just involves a visit to Rightmove, which I'm not complaining about.

I've also nearly finished my write-up of Glastonbury 2010, and there will be some more diving writing coming soon - watch this space! Happy Easter.