Among other things, last week was the week that we got rid of our conservatory.
When we bought our house in 2009, one of the reasons we chose it over the others in our budget was the conservatory.
The glass cathedral, we called it at the time; I’m fairly sure Doug came up with that one. It wasn’t actually that big; 10 by 15ft. Big enough.
Once it had a table and a bit of storage in, it was noticeably less cathedral-like but we still had ideas that we would be putting it to use as a dining room, for entertaining and stuff, which we would of course be doing all the time.
Did we b*llocks. We ate in it about six times in eight years, and that was before we had a dog and kids that turned every room into an explosion of mud and colourful plastic.
The problem with conservatories, you see, is that for all their glorious light-and-airiness they’re not entirely practical.
This is my conservatory experience, summed up in a short verse:
You were boiling hot in the summer
And too bloody cold in the winter
But you made a nice place to hang washing
And chuck the recycling into*
As time went on, it was clear that our growing family was in need more space; space that we could actually use for more than a laundry and storage room. Space that we could bear to be inside without seventeen layers of clothing. Our extension** has been a long time in the planning, but it is almost time.
And so it was decreed; farewell, conservatory, and the conservatory was duly put on Ebay for some poor sod to come to our house, take it down and take it away.
|Celebrating, the night before.|
To my immense surprise, someone actually wanted to part with money for it.
Actually, more than one person; there was even a bidding war (of sorts) and we got nearly £200 for it, which was a damn sight better than having to pay £250 for a skip and taking it down ourselves; but no matter, we may have missed out on that fun but we still have the garage to go which has the added fun of asbestos.
I have to be honest, I was expecting some kind of farce involving a teenager and his dad turning up in a ford fiesta and smashed panes of glass, which happened when we sold a six-foot fish tank (although that was a Peugeot I think…) but actually, the guys turned up in a big van, had a cup of tea and got down to work. I took the kids to the park and when I came back, they were loading the van with labelled pieces.
By the time the small one had napped and we’d had lunch, the conservatory was no more.
They even gave us £200 square, clearly happy with their cheap conservatory or maybe just feeling sorry for us.
Now, instead, we are left with a kind of European-style patio effort.
It almost makes a nice space to have lunch; I moved the table and chairs onto it and it looked a bit like you might expect on a Spanish holiday…
|Lunching with my homeboy.|
Or it did for a day. One measly day.
Typically (because it is May you know) it has since rained, torrential style rain, and now it’s a bit like a dangerous ice rink (or even a swimming pool) and the floor is starting to peel up, which is going to be nice for the next month until the extension starts.
Au revoir, glass cathedral.
*You can make this rhyme if you try.
**The long anticipated extension kicks off in under four weeks, and I plan to blog my way through it as a form of therapy, which I anticipate I’ll require.
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