New bath

Last Saturday’s rainforest training taught me that Jon, my neighbour and a wildlife photographer, is also a certified tracker. It wasn’t too hard to identify the deep muddy puddle, pictured above, as a wallow – but whose? Jon found a roe deer print in the soft mud, complete with the two higher rear claws, and a few metres away I found droppings…

…which were too large for roe. Jon was unable to say whether they were from red or sika deer as both are present locally and they hybridise, further complicating identification.

Jon showed me how to identify shoots that had been nipped by deer, as opposed to sheep, useful when one wants to know what’s affecting a woodland’s growth.

On Sunday Tash and I walked locally, in a soft smirr. The cloud was low, there were no distant views and the air was saturated.

Building: Paul the exuberant delivery driver called me while I was still in bed and before I’d drunk my coffee he was backing down the drive. The three of us unloaded thirty eight packs of bamboo flooring into the living room and off he went.

To lay the flooring I’ve got to get the scaffolding tower out and empty the living/dining room, but first had to build it up to its highest, fill and repaint some shrinkage cracks in the ceiling and put up the gear to suspend my proposed light-cum-sculpture folly. From up the tower I noticed some patches of wall, sanded by Tom that had evaded my brush and roller, so I got on with that too.

The pulleys and the rope came today. Opening the bag of hemp rope released a familiar but mysterious animal odour, cows perhaps, but why? There were no cows in the bag.

I still await arrival of the forged stainless steel screw-eye lag bolt (sorry) to hang all the gear from the ridge beam. It’s the same as the one I bought to anchor the washing line to the house, but after a bad time with Royal Mail the supplier now only offers delivery by courier and I baulked at the price. Fourteen quid. I delayed but gave in and Tash suggested I borrow the screw eye from the washing line and replace it when the new one arrives…

While I’m working solo the bathroom is my focus (honest!) and an ultra-thin, illuminated mirror is my solution to supplying a reflection and two IP44 lights that I can’t find. It’s to go behind the basin, under the skylight and, as it’s electrical and within 60mm of the basin tap, has to be rated IP44 (splash proof). It arrived this week, as did three spotlights (also IP44) for the ceiling. The spotlight bases are wider than the narrow strip of horizontal ceiling so I made three wooden blocks on which to mount them, each a slightly different size as the strip of ceiling tapers; don’t ask me why.

Once I’d fixed the blocks I thought it wise to put up the bases of the lights so the electricians don’t come up with their own arrangement. When they last came they left some plasterboard needing repair round the holes they cut for the socket and switch boxes – apparently this is to be expected, so I fixed that as part of my preparations for the second fix – I’m now nagging the electrician constantly, by email and voicemail.

While filler or paint was drying in the bathroom I was downstairs sanding and painting another door, this one to go between kitchen and hallway. Running out of clear space I used the stack of bamboo flooring as a bench. Friday night saw the door hung, but not quite fitting. By coffee time on Monday it should be adjusted and rehung and by lunch I expect to have the latch and handles installed.

As well as building: after the rain the spout by the drive was spurting water so we positioned one of Tash’s old ceramic sculptures and played with a tube to direct the flow with a view to a more permanent installation.

Tash’s mushroom experiment continues – the oyster mushrooms are suddenly doing well on the substrate of coffee grounds and oak dust…

Yesterday dawned cold, rain on rain, but through it all the entwined song of a blackbird and thrush. A wonderful and extraordinary thread…

…and this evening at seven the dusk was full of thrushes, five or six, each singing its own improvised riffs. The season turns.