Labours of love?

I’m sitting in the only space in the house that isn’t either covered in dust or stacked with furniture… another renovation day dawns!

Why is it that however modestly your building project begins, it will inevitably grow legs and morph itself into a full blown construction job? And not only will it go on far longer than predicted, it will also come with a hefty price tag.

In early January we set out to make a few improvements to one half of the house… two months on and I’ve just sat down after loading up scraps of carpet into five bin liners. I’m sitting down because I’m not attracted by the next job, which involves lugging each of the bags to the garage through the Devon drizzle. So, instead I’m playing on my phone.. very “millennial” I know!

This building lark should be very familiar to me after many years working on a number of building projects both in our own homes and more recently in the homes of our children.
So, what have I learned?

Concrete burns are a thing. After a session mixing concrete on a hot day a couple of years ago, part of my over enthusiastic shovel fulls into the bucket must have slid down the inside of my wellies, below my cut offs. Several hours later I discovered a red patch on my leg that started to blister… long story, but I ended up with quite a serious concrete burn which took some time to heal and was quite painful. It turns out the burning chemical in concrete goes on working – eating into your skin – unless it’s rinsed off quickly. So beware!

Bricklaying is an art. During Easter 2020 while many of us enjoyed the sunshine amidst the first pandemic lockdown, our daughter-in-law taught herself how to build a wall, to finish off their house extension which had been started a few months earlier. Her self-taught skills left us all in awe – because it wasn’t an ordinary wall. The completed stepped back design, specified by our architect son, in traditional London stock bricks, is a work of art. And still standing!

Plumbing can be fun. One of our very dearest friends is a plumber who mixes his work with fun. When he visited us for various plumbing jobs he used to create musical instruments from left over copper pipes for the children to play with during his tea break. My own forays into plumbing began in 2020 assisting with the first London house renovation/rebuild. A couple of years on I had a chance to see if I’d remembered the skills I’d picked up, working on another house renovation, this time with our youngest son and his wife. Whether it was laying plastic pipes up walls or under floorboards, attempting to straighten the bendy tubes without kinking them, labelling hot and cold and fitting valves and stoppers – it was fiddly and sometimes frustrating. But it also had its funny moments – if you didn’t laugh you’d cry… In the end it was quite satisfying to think that we had laid the pipes and when the real plumber came to test the system they didn’t leak!

And then there’s the dust. Dust gets everywhere, even in the rooms you’ve sealed off. Also it lives forever. A few days after you’ve cleaned everywhere thoroughly, you wake up to find more has landed overnight, covering everything with a white film. This time I had forgotten the dust. Perhaps I just wanted to blank it out, thinking it will be less this time, as it’s in the other half of the house and there’s a big door between us… but it is back. Dust on the tables, on the cups on the shelf, even on the hoover, and it goes on. Even if you cover everything with dust sheets or polythene, it finds a way in. There is no escaping it, so if you are embarking on a building project it might be time to embrace the dusty look and think of desert storms and living in shades of grey for a while.

Although I have been a concrete mixer, a plumber’s mate, a roof resin mixer and a wall insulation fitter in the past – I am now mostly a cleaner and a decorator. These are lower risk roles, but ones which have a degree of satisfaction for a few hours at least. 

My dream is to see all the building materials packed away, furniture unstacked and being able to clean and decorate the new rooms at last, so that we can welcome some guests. 

Knowing how things go, it may be a few weeks yet, so I will slide on my “ear defenders” and get back to sweeping up another dusty room, with dreams of Spring and potting out flowers to drown out the noise of the drills and electric saws.

The final march out

Here I am back in the same situation as I was when I first started this blog nine years ago – on the move again and surrounded by boxes! But this time we are heading to our new home, instead of another army posting.

I haven’t done my farewells to our last army quarter just yet, that will happen this weekend when we get it ready for our final “march out”. For non-military readers, this is a kind of inspection of the house to make sure you have cleaned it properly and there is no dust in the plug sockets, mould inside the window frames or even a whisper of grease in the oven.

As I discovered nine years ago, cleaning can be a kind of therapy that helps with the emotions of leaving somewhere treasured and familiar before heading into the unknown.

So, while I’m down on my knees cleaning the toilet, I will also be remembering some of the good times, while looking forward to what lies ahead.

Living on the Jurassic coast has been a privilege and a joy. We’ve managed to walk a whole section of the south coast path from Poole Harbour entrance to Burton Bradstock, with most legs completed there and back. We’ve enjoyed kayaking through caves and paddleboarding as the sunset across Lulworth Cove. We’ve fought off the seagulls, while eating fish and chips from Bennetts in Weymouth, and dreamed of owning a yacht, while watching boats moor up along the quay. 

The amazing stars overhead in the dark Dorset sky have made up for the booming sound of tanks firing day and night on the ranges we live beside. We’ve watched tracers lighting up the night sky on summer nights, and during the day I’ve looked up from my desk and spotted the splash from shells landing in the sea beyond. On the quieter days, without firing, we’ve enjoyed hosting family and friends and taking them to the hidden coves and beauty spots on our doorstep.

This is also the house where we lived through lockdown, which involved walks to the sea almost every day, listening to birdsong on the normally busy road at the back of our garden and a marathon bike ride to Poole Harbour and back again. “Never again!” we said.

I’ll miss all that, but I won’t miss the barb wire lining our fence or the taps that don’t match and the threadbare carpets or magnolia chip papered walls. Or the moles who continue to wreak havoc across our lawns!

Army life has been fun. We’ve forged new friendships and had to say goodbye countless times. We’ve had a run of amazing postings these past nine years, from sunny Cyprus to living on the magical Thorney Island. I’ve also loved my time with the Military Wives Choir, both in Cyprus and in Bovington. Singing with them has lifted my spirits time and again and I’ve met some of the most caring, encouraging and zany women, who’ve also made me laugh. Despite all this, for me it’s time to move.

Change is exciting, but not always easy. After spending a large proportion of my life as an army wife, I’m looking forward to putting down roots, sorting out my garden and having all my stuff in one place at last. But my soon-to-be ex-army man is not so sure. He’s wondering about what’s next, what will life be like beyond the military and where his next adventure will take him.

Although we’re leaving Dorset, we’re not heading so far, just next door to Devon. Our new home, which we already love, will be ready for us to move into in the autumn. In between then and now, it seems we have time for a little sailing adventure in Greece! As long as we pass that final “march out”…