After the potential high drama of the long-distance furniture transport; I am slightly disappointed to report that it went off without a hitch.
The rickety truck arrived on Saturday afternoon and was fully loaded with goodies. Most surprisingly, it arrived on schedule in Ubon some fourteen hours later, where members of the extended family no doubt had fist-fights as to who should have what. Don’t care, as long as our new house was clear of surplus sofas and the like.
As the truck headed off down the road, the entire village committee arrived to review my magnificent improvement proposals; chief of which was the construction of a warehouse storeroom in my garden to house all my surplus shit.
Most of the committee were German speakers so I refrained from mentioning the war, but emphasised how much I admired BMWs on more than one occasion. They were most accommodating and my back of an envelope ideas were given the green light; although I did fail to highlight the plan for a guard tower.
With the family gone and the committee dealt with, we spent Sunday tile hunting; this was to stretch my patience somewhat….
We had two bathrooms to re-tile and re-equip, and we had agreed a general plan for each in terms of design and colour scheme. Should have taken an hour or so to choose all the tiles; in the event we took six hours to chose a small percentage of what was required. I wouldn’t like to blame my wife; but it sure as hell was not my fault.
She who must be obeyed has a very female approach to shopping. Let’s say she wants to buy some earrings with a blue stone. A man with a similar requirement would maybe have an unusual taste in ear embellishment; but he would go straight to a place that sold earrings and look for a blue pair. Having found them he would immediately retire home to drink beer and have a celebratory wank.
Women do not behave this way. They may head out with the intention of procuring blue earrings; but once inside a shop they immediately become distracted. Oooo, look at the shoe sale! Etc. After a lifetime of browsing everything except earrings, she will return home empty handed and walk in on her husband with a glass in one hand and something furtive going on with the other. And so the world turns.
Our tile hunt turned into a toilet hunt, a washbasin hunt, a living room floor tile hunt (the tiles for the living room floor had been purchased only the day before; but that was not going to stop her) and a shower hunt; pausing occasionally to redefine the overall design of each room until, after several iterations, we arrived back at the design we had started with. Which is why it took six hours and why we didn’t buy very much (not even blue earrings).
Such an ordeal would have tested a lesser man; but I am proud to report that I never lost my temper. Well, not more than usual; and even when I did I went and hit in the water pump section to calm down (women have no interest in water pumps I have discovered). So we made it through a mainly fruitless day without falling out; which is probably why we were able to head out in the evening to celebrate our eighth wedding anniversary. Yes, it was eight years since we arose at 0400; had our faces covered in white powder and were made to eat hard boiled eggs by a granny with grubby hands. Oh, the sweet memories.
No boiled eggs on Sunday, instead a fine meal at our favourite restaurant where the owner presented us with a suitably adorned cake and two very full glasses of fine dessert wine. He advised against the usual meal ending gift of a glass of limoncello; on the grounds that the dessert wine would not mix with it. Naturally I ignored his advice and duly woke up at 0300 feeling very queasy and sat for the next couple of hours drinking water and watching the British GP. Not a good start to the ninth year of marriage; although, well done Lewis.
The last two days have been a blur of more tile buying, tile deliveries, and spending time answering the contractor’s queries. The good news is that the demolition work is now largely complete, with most of the house in bomb site mode; and this morning there were signs that the now extensive stock of tiles are finally being laid. The end is some weeks away; but at least we are now building rather than destroying.
Comments 🔗
2014-07-08| Andrew saysDespite the Fawlty-esque approach to the “village committee” we ( me) are somewhat let down at the ease upon which they granted you their blessing for your warehouse shed thingamajig - hopefully when you try to add on the razor wire and mined no man’s land they will provide more fodder for our perusing pleasure….the “committee " noun typifies the saying “none of us are as dumb as all of us together”…
2014-07-09| Wolfgang Lonien saysOnce I met Brits with Beamer motorcycles, and they told me that there’s even a club. Today I’d strongly prefer a nice Triumph tho…
2014-07-09| Wolfgang Lonien saysOh, forgot: our anniversary is also on July 8th. So maybe I married only a few hundred kilometers from you guys, down South (Malaysia). Anyway: happy anniversary!
2014-07-13| memock saysYou drink beer from a glass?
2014-07-16| Parry saysSpike, build a studio, lights ’n all.