Home Improvements

Last time out we discussed the weather and the abnormal amount of it we've had here. You'll be pleased to know that the Everglades Garden has reverted to a slightly excessive damp patch; but the problem - like next door's knotweed - isn't going to go away without some effort. It being October, we've kind of silently agreed that there's not a lot we can do about until the spring when we can see what is where and what we don't want. I fear the amount of water the garden attracts could be the reason why the garden has these specific plants and shrubs in it already.

The idea did cross my mind that it would be nice to speak to the previous owners to ask them how often this kind of flooding happened to them. The problem is I doubt most people would be quite as benign about it as me. I don't actually have any problem with the faults they left in the house; I'm sure the people who bought our old house will have discovered the creative use of plastic wood, used to cover up the damage Doug caused. So the last thing I'm going to do is be pissed off with the previous owners' because the house they were the occupiers of before us has a flood-prone garden. I'm pretty sure it's been that way since 1880, when the house was allegedly built. Besides, this is our house and we want to make it OUR house.

That aside, we've got various tradesmen booked for the coming weeks. Now that my new chum Frazer, the local fence man, has dog-proofed the garden/swamp and our new back door, with built-in dog flap arrives in about six weeks; we've done the two most important/essential jobs. We're now onto the things we need to be done to make us feel happy, although some are long term projects while others have a degree of urgency about them.

We have a nice local joiner called Roger coming round next week to do our internal doors. We have five doors upstairs that look like they've been cut and hung by a drunken blind man with three fingers on each hand, with only a knife and fork as tools. Two of them don't close; one closes but has gaps at the top and bottom; one has been assembled by bees and one is almost perfect but has no functioning furnishings. My mind boggles a little at how people could live in a house where hinges were obsolete (especially with a teenage girl in a house full of men).

We have a plumber coming round on Monday. Hopefully he will be able to remove the corner bath and shower, to replace them with a proper bath and another, non-leaky, shower. This is a priority for me; whereas the wife can almost treat the bath like her own mini-swimming pool, I simply can't fathom the appeal of a corner bath for anyone over 5 feet tall - there's so much space that isn't used!!! It's one of those things that sounds like a brilliant idea until you get one. I always think people are stupid when they say something like, 'I wish I was invisible.' Do you know how stupid that is, really? If you're invisible no one can see you... think about that - NO ONE CAN SEE YOU! Therefore you need to avoid roads, paths with lots of people, perilous situations... Jesus on a bike, if you really think about it being invisible is a complete and utter nightmare, but it would be a quick and easy way to get rid of perverts. Having a corner bath is in the same league as that. Sounds great but is a fucking nightmare.

We also need a plumber for one of the projects, so we'll get a rough idea of how much that might cost us at the same time - this is converting part of one of the downstairs rooms into a wet room for the future.

The wife wants to carpet the living room and to be honest I think it would warm the room up. We had our first delivery of heating oil, something we have to have as there is no natural gas down this way. Now, I accept this sounds a little unusual, but it cost us about £400; we expect that will be roughly the amount of fuel we'll need until next October - dependent on how above or below average the weather is this winter. If next October, at a time when fuel is just beginning to increase in price again, we spend proportionately the same amount of money that will be about 50% less than it was in Northampton. The electric bill is likely to be about 30% higher, but at the moment, having a bigger house 300 miles further north than previously, our fuel bills will be about 20% less. Obviously petrol/diesel is likely to be about 20% higher when we're working; so I'd like to think that it's an economic swap with better health benefits.

We're also gearing up for ex-hurricane Ophelia and the promise of 80mph winds and torrential rain. I expect it will be worth watching.

While we slowly get the house to a level where we can happily welcome guests, even grubby ones, life obviously has to go on. For us that's the dogs and already Doug has made the local vet's in Newton his second home. He's been in four times now and is due back in two weeks for a check up. First it was a nasty accident in the woods - which honestly could have been so much worse - and second was a re-occurrence of an historic ear problem; the other times were just return trips. On Friday morning while the wife was taking Doug back for a check up, I casually looked at Lexy, our OAP dog, wobbly down the stairs and wondered if she had taken the wrong dog to the vet. Saturday morning, after deducing she'd had a canine stroke, I was back down myself with a dog who had indeed had a stroke. It was a harrowing weekend, especially when I had to acknowledge that one of our dogs is entering the twilight of her days...

Controversially, I'm discovering something about this area of the country, which I'm slightly nervous about logging down. The people who know me personally will tell you that usually I'm quite gregarious and affable; I don't truly become obnoxious and dislikable until you've known me a while; so making new friends in a naturally friendly place hasn't been that difficult and would it surprise anyone if I said I have made mainly Scottish friends? With the exception of our quiz team co-members (one from South-east London, the other two from Bedford), just about every person I feel I've made friends with is from around here. In fact, for fear of alienating myself if any of the English neighbours ever read this, I've not really met that many who I'd want to be that close with; in fact, a lot of them are snobs...

The Scots in this part of the country like people who bring something with them, even if it's just buying a house and living in it, because you're contributing to the economy. There is a general distrust of weekend warriors and people who seem to spend little time here but would like it to become an extension of their English life rather keep its distinctly Scottish vibe. I want the latter; I want this to be Scotland and I want the Scots to accept me as a long-lost Scotsman and not someone who wants it to be more like ma auld hame. I bought into the Scottish Dream because the English or British one has turned into a nightmare with a naked Theresa May, in a gimp mask and stilettos, straddled over your own naked form, begging for it 'up the Gary, big boy!'

I have had two weeks of a cold and bronchitis. At no point during this two week period did I think I was going to die. It may well have been not as bad as the last cold I had in Shoesville, but it has been less evil and life-threatening. My GP, who I saw several weeks ago, reckons my health will improve dramatically, especially if I don't do anything silly and keep to a reasonably good exercise regime. I can only deduce that the clean air was a huge help in keeping my chest clear enough for oxygen to find its way to my lungs. The problem is, as I have a chronic condition, I've woke up this morning thinking it might be having an encore.

To be brutally honest with you though, the last few weeks have felt a little detached from reality - not just because I was largely housebound, but also with Lexy's problem, the rediscovery of being sociable and the return of an old friend - boredom. The thing is, I expect it would have been like this for best part of the rest of the summer in Northampton, but with a little more being sociable, less money and a wife who hates everything because of her job.

Anyhow; the next couple of weeks will see us venture to Stranraer again, to shop in proper supermarkets, maybe stock up on Galaxy Cake Bars, parathas, veggie over products, industrial quantities of paprika and possibly some decent potatoes. My brother-in-law once asked me what my luxuries were and was genuinely gobsmacked when it amounted to very little.

We also have the brand new 'Indian' restaurant in Newton to try. Rumour has it it is being run by the man who used to have one in Girvan, which had a great reputation. The problem is I have my own particular form of snobbery ... just what do people up here regard as good in relation to someone who really does know a good Indian when it's at home? There are Indian restaurants and there are Bangladesh restaurants masquerading as Indians.

Anyhow, on that controversial note. I'm going to get ready for the coming storm. At the moment I'm looking forward to it, in a slightly weird kind of way, especially as we're up on a hill and could see gusts over 80mph. It's only halfway through October and already 30% of the trees are leafless, but 70% of the broad leaf ones haven't even finished turning and this creates its own problems - akin to opening an umbrella in a hurricane, d'ya ken?

Get In Get Out ... Of The Rain

"We didn't move to Scotland for the weather," has been the most uttered phrase in my vocabulary after, "What? More sex?" and "What do you want for dinner?" And after the last 10 days it is now spoken without the slightest hint of irony.

The weather hasn't been awful (in fact, I've thought it was better than expected), but during the period of time the Wigtown Book Festival has taken place there has been an awful lot of rain. In fact, in accordance with all things British, it seems that if you have an event on then it's going to be screwed over by the weather. As I write this the sun is trying to break through and while this is not an unusual thing, we could have done with a lot more of it during the last days of September.

I'm concerned about voicing this publicly for reasons that will become obvious, but since we moved here there have been loads of absolutely glorious days; real summery days where shorts and sunglasses have been essential. However, if you had an event on since we've been here then there's a good chance you got saturated.

Let's look at that calendar...

We moved here on the 19th July on what was the warmest day I have encountered since we've been here. On July 22, we needed to go to Stranraer to buy a cooker and various other essential services/requirements. It was the day of their carnival and it absolutely tipped it down. July 22 was also the first day of the Wigtown Food Festival and it duly tipped it down here as well. The 23rd wasn't much better, but it was drier (it would, I believed at the time, have had to go some to be wetter). Then followed a week of what I really thought was nice weather (unless you spoke to people who have been living here a long time) and a few days of really nice weather (that even the locals accepted as good).

August 2nd, the day of the annual Wigtown show, was, for an early August day, on the wrong side of apocalyptic. It had been drizzling for most of the morning and as I reported in an earlier blog became torrential by early afternoon while I was walking the mile home. It was a complete and thorough wash out (for the fourth time in five years) but the food and craft tents did exceptional business and even the poultry show was patronised far more than you would imagine; although I doubt many of the people in the marquee were bird fanciers of the feathered variety.

The catalogue of shit days coinciding with special events continued through August in a way that almost seemed like Mother Nature was simply taking the piss - Having a do? Here's some torrential rain!

For three days before any event you could have sunbathed naked; the day of the event and thermals under galoshes were the order of the day and one thing we'd worked out by the end of August was it simply didn't just rain here; it was a cross between intensely torrential and full-on monsoon.

Another thing is that weather forecasts are purely advisory... I mean, having been a keen weather bore for years, I am aware that most forecasts are advisory, especially when low pressure is concerned, but up here, I reckon they just approximate the weather and even if it's forecast to be fine there's a rain symbol at 4.00pm (check it out if you don't believe me), probably just to cover their arses at the general unpredictability here. Still etc., etc., etc...

For three weeks September was okay; not the best September I can remember by a long chalk (but better than last year) and definitely one of the least warm ones, but things didn't look bad for the book festival. The day before it all started we were down on Garlieston beach in T-shirts and shorts; it will be the last time that happens before 2018 is my guess and like the day before the Wigtown Show if you had been warned that the following day was going to be shite you would have pooh-poohed the idea (Unless, of course, you've lived here for longer than 2½ months) ...

The Book Festival kicked off on the Friday and so did the South-West Scottish Monsoon Season. Jesus wept, it rained almost non-stop for three days, so bad that by the end of it our back garden was literally under nearly a foot of water - I shit you not and we live on a frigging hill! Even the locals were pretty gobsmacked - "We havnay seen weather like this in September afore," was the common response and we have no real way of corroborating this apart from - we aren't tourists, they can tell us the truth!

I was going to say you could count on one hand the number of nice days during the 10-day festival, but that would have been half of it and the truth was you could almost count the number of nice days on one hand, minus the thumb and your little finger, oh and a bit of your middle finger, the one you hold up to the weather while saying 'Fuck You'...

The festival finished yesterday with the tail end of Hurricane Piss drifting across us. This morning we woke up to sunny skies and 70 mile an hour winds, you'd hope the wind would dry us all out, but all it did was allow heavy showers to rattle through like Lewis Hamilton's arse after a month as a vegan.

During the last week there has been a fair bit of geomagnetic activity, which has meant that in Scotland you can see the aurora borealis, I'm not sure you can see it through thick saturated clouds...

But, we didn't move here for the weather. Oh and winter is coming...