I feel as though today (Wed 5 March) is the first complete day’s work I’ve done for a while, not broken by phonecalls and admin. Yesterday I had the long bottom shelf in position, propped on random pieces of wood, and by this evening I had it cut and trimmed to fit, notched to accommodate the edges of the back of the kitchen cabinets and resting on five purpose-made blocks. On one end I cut the radius to match the worktop above then, with it back in position, realised I’d made a mistake on the bamboo flooring. It needed to go further beneath the bottom shelf so its edge would be hidden, but I’d cut it; it was too narrow. I’d suspected this might be the case but it was now clear. There was a complication – one end went under the skirting, but once I started to prise up the floor I noticed that the bamboo under the skirting was a separate short piece and, with some extra effort, it came free. I opened one of the three unused packs of bamboo and used two new pieces; one needed trimming round the slate flooring, but that was easy. It was a bit of a fiddle getting the new pieces locked back in place but, just when I was wondering how I was going to manage, it slotted together. I stood up and put my weight on it, making sure it was firmly interlocked.
Now the support blocks are glued in place and I’ve routed two of the four cover strips I need to hide the ugly back edges of the kitchen cabinets.
I’m planning to cut each cover strip into pieces to fit precisely between the shelves – this will give extra support to the back of the shelves.
Since starting this draft I’ve had nearly two weeks away with Tash, in Edinburgh and the Netherlands, via Newcastle.
I heard that down south the chiffchaffs had arrived and wondered whether any summer visitors would be waiting for us when we returned. Willow warblers? Ospreys?
The ferry from North Shields to Ijmuiden was good and we’d use it again. Conditions were misty, making the ports and industry on both coasts somehow more intriguing; we crossed the North Sea just a few hours before the collision between the tanker and container ship.
As we’ve visited Amsterdam several times, we limited our time to several hours in the Rijksmuseum, then caught a train to Utrecht. Still full of life, it was pleasantly quieter than Amsterdam, though we weren’t quite prepared for all the restaurants to be closed by eight thirty.
Tash had booked us into the NH Hotel; very reasonable with a large room looking out over the streets.
The next day another train and two buses took us to the Kroller-Muller Museum.
I’d visited in 1989 as part of my postgrad landscape architecture field trip, but this time found the outdoor sculpture rather too crowded, the labels visually intrusive and many of the plinths similarly unsatisfactory – how does sculpture meet ground? Hopefully my objections are a result of my training and experience, increased sensitivity rather than grumpy fault-finding. On that first visit I’d been struck by Ian Hamilton Finlay’s theatrical, but real, oak trees with classical plinths, set in a glade reached by a narrow path between laurels; surprising and witty. Because of the controlled and limited viewpoint the trees really did appear to be standing on stone plinths. But the glade is no longer a cul-de-sac, the approach is no longer strictly controlled and, consequently, the piece has lost its impact – the drama is gone. A significant number of sculptures were shrouded against the winter weather; hadn’t they been made to live outside? In contrast the indoor museum was stunning, including the world’s second largest collection of Van Gogh paintings.
The Kroller-Muller Museum sits in the Veluwe National Park (Het Nationale Park de Hoge Veluwe), sandy heath with woodland, but apparently there is a problem in paradise: holes have been appearing in the perimeter fence letting in (and out) nine wolves, which are decimating the mouflon (introduced in the 1920s). The mouflon are currently important for maintaining a balance between the grassy heathland and trees. Despite cycling around a bit (on free white bicycles) we saw copious signs of wild boar, but no wolves…
Our third night was in Rotterdam, yet another distinctive city and an easy train ride away. We stayed in a hostel in Piet Blom’s curious Cube Houses. The city was heavily bombed in WWII so there’s been much rebuilding, though there’s still plenty of water, docks and basins as well as the river, as wide as the Thames at Rainham and just as busy. We found more streets of old buildings than we’d expected and walked miles. Take the river-bus or water taxi.
And so back to Newcastle. With a tip-off from Steve, we were on deck before six am to see a hazy and partially eclipsed orb, which sank into a low cloud bank and then that was that. Of the two collision and fire-damaged vessels there was no sign.
Just before leaving to meet Tash in Edinburgh for our holiday, I was cleaning the smeary big sliding panel of the south-facing window…
… when I noticed a fresh looking V-shaped crack in the glass. No idea how it could have happened. Neither of us has hit it with anything and the cat doesn’t play football indoors. I superglued the ends of the crack, hoping to counter further cracking, and phoned the insurance company, then a local glazier. A man and his apprentice turned up the next afternoon but gave me the strong impression that they didn’t really know what they were dealing with. The man said the boss would probably want to visit, but he hasn’t been. I’ll be trying the insurance company’s recommended glaziers. The glass that needs replacing is a triple-glazed panel over two metres tall and a metre and a half wide. Heavy. Expensive. Puzzling.
A sustainable house for unsustainable times... 