birth of a living space

 

This morning I can finally report the birth of a living space. It has a subfloor and walls, ceiling in need of patching and painting. Too much unnecessary stuff lurking around yet,  but, a castle it is! We shall be sitting in sheer luxury this morning to enjoy our croissants and coffee. It is all relative, isn't it? Another thought stikes me: when all else fails, you lower your standards!

building bridges

How do you join the old sagging slanted antique floor to the new level straight floor? A pertinent question, especially when you're creating an open plan area. You simply start knocking things out with a pneumatic hammer to strip three layers of flooring. You leave the wattling and daubing that is still attached to the many layers of ceilings below (now the wine-shop). You remove 300 year-old oak joisting. You do all this when the wife is at work. When she comes home, you explain there are now bridges to walk on between kitchen and living areas. You justify the thick layers of fine dust covering the new kitchen by explaining it was the only way to go. You do want a strong base for your hardwood floor, don't you?

wining and whining: are we winning?

Pressure at home and in the business... what are the priorities? We put on our best public faces to promote our range of wines this past weekend at the cloisters of Nivelles where the commune hosted their Vins Passion event, allowing the public to taste and buy from a wide range of vintners.
When we had a free moment, we talked floors, walls, light fittings and "is there light at the end of the tunnel?" The wine shop on the groundfloor has no floortiles in its extension yet, nor a ceiling, nor its kitchen corner, nor the WC. When do we do all that?
Upstairs we eat and move furniture as we come to grips with the old floor that needs levelling; old and new floors have to meet. All the furniture is packed against the back wall while we enjoy a sundowner and some leftover chicken-in-beer stew. Cooked in beer? Enough of the coq au vin for the moment...

Putting our feet up for a few moment's rest before we dig into chicken-in-beer

more thyme needed

The kitchen looks as if it has been there for 20 years already. We try out the ovens, try out the dishwasher and pack the new fridge. Everything tastes more delicious. No need for dry herbs anymore; the new windowsill sports a selection of the very thing, fresh. We sit down and make a list of the hundred things to be done yet, and my man says we need more time. I say we need to make haste as the offsprings and the sister-in-law are coming home for Easter! I remind him that we were supposed to have the kitchen for Christmas. There are hundreds of things to do such as hardwood floors to lay, walls to paint, extractor fan to install, electrical plugs to fix in the new living area and much much more, you understand. To prevent panic from setting in again, I focus on humble thyme and olive oil.

The menu tonight? Creamed butternut soup with fresh basil followed by grilled merlan rubbed with smokey peri-peri and fresh thyme.

calm

 

 

from there to here in 24 hours

 

appliances and zucchini

We are getting closer to a real kitchen. I cannot find the words to describe the effort it requires. The two of us carry the new appliances up the wonky spiral staircase -- I am talking about a new dishwasher, oven and fridge/freezer -- so we deserve a jolly hearty meal afterwards. Our supper has to be what is left in the old fridge. Zucchini, onions and garlic. My pantry on the bedroom floor supplies a can of chopped tomatoes with basil and a bag of dried tagliatelle. We drown the concoction with a glass of shiraz and we count the number of meals left before we have the new kitchen.