A new adventure

So... this is currently happening in the Bear household:

Which is to say, we have finally faced up to the realities of the terrifying incompetence of the previous owner, and are having a large section of the house Properly Dealt With. We have, or perhaps used to have, an extension. It is hard to describe without the aid of diagrams quite the nature of the extension, and I do know how you all love diagrams. Sadly, I can't quite be bothered to draw diagrams for you tonight, so I shall try and paint a word picture instead.

Our house is moderately old, built ninety years ago, originally without indoor plumbing. Sometime in the reasonably-distant past, a solidly-built, flat-roofed, single-storey extension was added, containing a bathroom. Some time later, some half-wit added a lean-to extension up against the side of this first extension. The second extension, being a lean-to, had a sloping roof. Despite the rather ad hoc, and temporary, nature of this extension, it still struck the next owner, Mr Bodge-It, as a good idea to put a large pitched roof over the whole lot. So we have two roofs on our extension(s). Which is nice.

Over the years, the lean-to part of the extension has gradually become colder, and draughtier, and damper, and generally less pleasant to be in. So we now have a lovely firm of builders here, essentially ripping it down and starting again. Not least because in their first exploratory dig they discovered that the lean-to didn't actually have foundations, and the steels that were "supporting" the roof were gradually slumping and sinking, as could perhaps have been predicted given we live in the fens, and there was nothing but mud beneath them.

Failing to find foundations

Now that the builders have started work properly, they are enjoying the same experience that every workman I have engaged goes through. They are discovering the handiwork of Mr Bodge-It. Personally, I've almost lost the ability to be surprised by the things that he did to the house. I smiled happily when the gas man wanted to take photographs of the old gas fire installation to send to his professional trade magazine, on the grounds he'd never seen anything so awful. I carefully removed the green/yellow wiring used for a live supply to an outdoor light. I gently shrug when I open the central doors of the fitted wardrobe and find a chimney inside it, and no actual cupboard space.

I find a certain frisson of entertainment to watching the reactions of professional tradesmen when they investigate our house. I got home yesterday to be confronted by Mr Builder, asking me, "Do you know what was holding the roof onto the walls?"

It came as little surprise to me to be told that the answer was "almost nothing." In fact, Mr Builder wafted something that looked like a particulary long and thin Viennetta*. It was in fact silicone sealant, and Mr Builder was so astounded by it that he wanted to take it home to show his wife. That's quite some silicone.

Today, sadly, I was home after they'd finished work, which did not prevent me getting a certain vicarious thrill from the things that they'd discovered during the day. I may, occasionally, be a little old-fashioned. A little bit tied to tradition. But there are times when I can't help but feel that sticking with the "traditions" of building regulations and basic mechanical engineering principles is a good idea. Take, for example, the tedious habit of only burying mains wiring in a wall in perpendicular lines. Wires should run up-down or left-right. That's just how it is. I can only imagine how much fun Mr Electrician had finding and digging out this cable run:

An unorthodox approach to mains wiring

Meanwhile, the ceilings have come down, to reveal the structure of the lean-to roof. Again, call me old-fashioned, but I generally find that if I want to span from one wall to another with a roof beam, the ideal way to do it is to rest the beam on top of the wall. That way all the lovely forces of gravity are transferred into the wall directly. An alternative method, I suppose, if you were more of a free-thinking artist, would be to screw the beams end on into the top of the walls, ensuring the full weight of the roof is taken on a handful of screws.

Can't think why the roof is sagging, can you?

The best bit about all this is we've only just got to the end of the second day. Imagine how much more there still is to discover! What fun!

On a more serious note, every one of these horrors that is found utterly vindicates our decision to Get It Done Properly. The extension wasn't just "a bit draughty", it was heading into the downright dangerous territory, and we are Doing The Right Thing in starting almost from scratch rather than applying another layer of bodge on top. I may not be quite so jolly as the windows, doors, walls and roofs come down and November bleeds into December. Now, where's that hot-water bottle...?

* Viennetta is a peculiarly English variation on ice-cream, once considered the height of sophistication.