Shiver Me Timbers!

Today I am mostly scaring myself rigid by tackling the timbers in the cellar.

I had a good meeting with my builder, Paul, on Friday. He and Nikki live up on the plateau of a thousand cows. I lodged in their guest apartment before Christmas and Nikki was the first person I called when I drove my car into a ravine. Logical. If she can cope with raising four sons, she can cope with anything.

Paul and I agree that as my current budget is limited, he’ll do the more skilled, builder-orientated work like stuff involving roofs and walls and plumbing; and I shall stick to reasonably disaster-proof tasks such as timber treatment and painting.

Ha! I am not a faint-hearted individual. I am not afraid to tackle scruffy-headed youths who drop litter on city streets, but my knees start to buckle at how much rotten wood comes away when I attack the beams in the cellar with a wire brush.

Here’s the thing: the theory is that oak is so invincible that the little bastard woodworms can eat away at a good third of the outside without touching the heartwood. Nice theory. These beams are holding up the entire house, so I defend my right as a property owner to be a bit scared.

TIP OF THE DAY:

Get someone else to do it. You’ll save yourself a fortune in valium.