Nik lives in Essex, UK and works in London as the editor of MacUser magazine. The posts and comments on this site do not necessarily reflect the views, opinions of values of his employers.
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Despite owning the house for almost eight months now, I’ve still not moved in. Since the end of March, it’s been an unbroken stream of workmen through the door, fixing, repairing and improving every room. It should have all come to an end yesterday when Michael, my long-term plumber and builder, finished off the downstairs cloakroom, but somehow it didn’t.
My new flooring in the kitchen, it would seem, had cracked, and so it had to all be taken up and started again from the bottom. By Monday it should be dry enough to finish off.
So today was a mammoth day of doing everything except finishing off, mainly involving copious quantities of furniture building, carting boxes up to the loft, and scraping builders’ dirt from just about every surface. The more we cleared, the better the place looked, and by the time the four of us left - feeling achey and grubby - the whole place had a nice livable-in feeling that it’s not had since the day I bought it.
Only trouble is, far as we might be with building that furniture, there’s still a whole lot left to go - more than we have done so far, in fact, and that’s allowing for the fact that the only rooms with any building to be done are the bedrooms.
Far as we may get each weekend, this house is still never quite so close to done as we may like to think.
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