February, gone.

Contractors Stuart and John came to talk with our neighbour and us, about providing batteries and a suitable inverter to make best use of the power we generate. We export a little over half as much as we import and as well as storage we want the flexibility to add a generator, wind turbine, electric vehicle or whatever seems appropriate at the time. We’d hoped to have this matter decided a couple of years ago and be able to reclaim the VAT, but finding someone who actually knows what they’re talking about is surprisingly hard. We’re also chasing Octopus to get our ‘smart’ metres connected, one way or another. I first raised the issue in 2020.

Beginning of the end of VAT reclaim? Wed19 Feb – I’d finished the spreadsheet of invoices for our VAT refund claim, but on returning to my HMRC account (on St Valentine’s day) all my previous answers, uploaded plans and documents had gone; the form was blank. Apparently information is kept for four weeks only – had it really been that long?

I started all over again, re-entered all the previous information and finally uploaded the spreadsheet (milestone!). Then came an interesting question, asking when the house became occupied. Why did they want to know? A quick internet search revealed a court case (Dunbar v Revenue and Customs) where HMRC refused a VAT refund because the applicant had not made their claim within the time limit (then three months, now six) of moving in – HMRC reasoned that as they’d moved in the house MUST be finished. The court found that HMRC were wrong and that the date of the Final Completion Certificate is when the clock starts to tick. We’ve been in the house for over a year, so I hope that court decision still holds.

Larch shelves: I’ve been planning the larch shelves for long enough and need to make a physical start.

David had offered me the use of a borrowed biscuit jointer, but I’d forgotten to bring it back from Islay so, on his way to London ten days later, he brought it over and Tash collected it from him at the ferry.

While Tash collected the biscuit jointer I visited a man next to Abhainn nan Gillean, one of the local rivers. Someone had thought he wanted to help me with the invertebrate surveys I’ll be doing but it turns out he’s frantically building a shed for he and his wife to live in while their cottage undergoes major refurbishment. After coffee and a chat I was walking back down to the river, saw two large birds overhead and, as I brought my binoculars to bear, heard the cry of a buzzard. The cry didn’t match the deep wings and wedge-shaped tail of the ‘sea’ eagle I was looking at, the white on its tail was clear, so it wasn’t a juvenile. With few wingbeats it flew inland, while the buzzard sailed the opposite way, back over the loch. I guess I’d just witnessed a minor altercation.

Back home I took the long larch planks outside and cut them according to my plan.

None of the planks was actually straight so I cut straight edges using the cordless circular saw and a plasterer’s feather-edge clamped in place as a guide. With straight edges I could start joining pieces side by side to achieve the necessary width, which is where the biscuit-jointer comes in. It cuts slots in the edge of the planks and when you glue the boards together you also glue a compressed beech ‘biscuit’ into each slot, half the biscuit sticks out, to be accommodated in the adjacent plank, aligning and strengthening the join.

Visually the join on longest of the planks wasn’t perfect, but the gap disappeared with a combination of planing, glueing and sanding. Following planks were better as I got the hang of what I was doing.

As I prepare to post this blog all of the main pieces for the shelves are made and the rough sawn finish has been sanded to an acceptable smoothness. I’ve yet to make final decisions on how the components will join – the planks’ varied thicknesses means my original idea of slotting them together might not give the best result.

Long weekend: I’ve had a long weekend off (again?) in Eskdale by the cumbrian coast where my daughter and I rented a certified passivehaus.

Before arrival I’d imagined the accommodation as a cabin but it turned out to be big enough for a home and I was envious of its super-airtightness and insulation (walls 450mm thick). It stood on stilts at the edge of the flood plane of the river Esk, replacing a dilapidated fishermen’s shack. A hundred metres away the river, once famed for its salmon and seatrout, was in full and galloping spate. Surprisingly next morning the river was down between its banks, running gin clear between stony shoals with stickles and glides. An extraordinarily rapid transformation.

Fieldfares and redwings fed in the field among the Herdwick sheep and in every ditch and boggy pool we found frogs and toads, clambering amidst heaps of spawn; much croaking!

Shelves and chainsaw: I left the glue to set on the last two shelves and worked outside until dusk, sawing a large log, then several smaller ones, with the new electric chainsaw, then splitting and stacking the pieces, and chopping up kindling.

The big log (pictured) came from the roadside after storm Eowyn and Tash and I struggled to lift it into the car. To cut up the log the chainsaw used one battery (5Ah) and a reservoir of (biodegradable) lubricating oil.

Before heading south to support her mum Tash rescued some frogspawn from a temporarily flooded rut in the track…

VAT: I returned from the Lake District to an email from HMRC – my uploaded spreadsheet of invoices was blank, please upload a completed form. The link they sent led to a page asking for proof the house had been derelict for ten years. Baffled I phoned up and after an hour got a very calm, patient and helpful helper who guided me through the process (not a clear form), finally confirming that my completed spreadsheet had arrived.