Tile saga

Would you like to have a go at tiling? You should try it, it’s very satisfying. The only thing you need to consider is that your first project should start off small so you can get the hang of it.

Our utility room has a toilet and a tiny microsink, but the sink was on a painted wall so water would splash on the paint all the time. It needed some tiles. Do a bit of googling and the entire internet will tell you that tiling a splashback is one of the simplest jobs and a great way for a beginner to learn tiling. Great, I thought. I’ll do that then.

The project scope expanded a bit, so now we are tiling the wall around the sink, and the windowsill which didn’t have an actuall sill, and the wall beside the toilet because it’s just a big empty wall and it will look nice. No problem. Bigger than a splashback but that’s just more tiles to stick on, not more difficulty.

All of the above is incorrect. It turns out that I have selected the world’s most fiddly tiling job as my first foray into the world of tiling. This isn’t an easy beginner’s introduction. It is a Tile Saga.

The sink is hard up against the side wall, so ideally would be removed so that the wall to the side and behind it could be tiled and the sink re-attached on top of the tiles. But it would have to be replaced slightly to the right, which is further than the pipes will reach, so it would all need re-plumbing, which I am not prepared to do.
Therefore the sink must stay in place and have tiles cut to go around it. But the sink is entirely curved – every part of it is curved, even across the top, where it could easily just be flat. So all the tiles around it must be cut with very specific and unique curves in them.
There are three pipes underneath and another pipe coming out of the side wall for the toilet cistern overflow. Tiles must be cut around these, requiring more curved cuts.
There’s no point getting an extremely expensive tile drill because they are for cutting circles in the middle of tiles, which I don’t need because all the pipes meet joints, and anyway the pipes are all different sizes and the curves are all unique and not even a consistent radius, so every curved cut needs to be done manually.
I have therefore invested in an angle grinder with a diamond cutting disc, which lets me cut very thin slices, and gentle curves, and notches out of tiles to go around the corners of the window. The angle grinder is the single most terrifying object I own because it cuts through ceramic tiles like soft butter and would remove fingers or even whole limbs if given half a chance. The tiles are small and must be held in place when you cut them so your fingers are very close to the blade. I am scared whenever I have to turn it on.
The angle grinder still cannot cut tight enough curves to get the pipework or the tighter sink edges right, so those bits must be manually filed out of the tiles using a file, which can take up to 20 minutes for a single tile and produces huge volumes of ceramic tile dust, as does the angle grinder now I come to think about it.
I didn’t think about the dust until I developed a dry cough which has mostly gone now but still occasionally rears its head.

The tiles arrived in April and I have now finished tiling the two walls and the windowsill. They still need grouting which is another new skill I am now approaching with some trepidation because it must surely hold further unknown pitfalls.

The other windowsill and the backsplash around the worktop at the other side of the utility room need tiling too, but that can now wait for a few months because I need to do some jobs in the garden and tiling the utility room has used up all my DIY time so far this summer.

The tiling looks nice.

I am pleased with the result.

I am glad I don’t have any more pipes or curved bits to do.

I’m pretty sure I am now due an honorary doctorate in tiling.

Sink “Saga”

I don’t have a saga.

I checked, all over in fact and there’s nothing there that constitutes as or has the brevity to be classed as anything close to a saga. With this in mind then I have injected a brief sojourn into annoyance with 100% pure drama to jushe… to shudje… to make it much more appealing.

I turned the tap on and the hot water wouldn’t go down the plughole. Nightmare. It wasn’t so long ago that I’d poured a bottle of something or other down there to clear the pipes and now the pipes weren’t playing ball. I needed to turn up the heat on this and I wasn’t going down without a fight. This fight, however, would have to wait until morning.

The next day I took a short trip over to the B&Q website to secure some supplies. All I wanted was a sink plunger and some more sink un-blocker, preferably a different make from the one I’d already used (you ain’t countin’ me out as a fool twice in the same year, sucker). The plunger I wanted, however, was an online purchase item only, delivery in five days; that ain’t helping anyone because this mother needed unblocking today. Nightmare. I’d have to go with my second choice. Wham, bosch, straight to the checkout and my click and collect would be ready in an hour.

Ten minutes later though my dog and bone was ringing off the hook from a local number. I pick it up and the more important of the two items, the plunger, is out of stock at the store I chose. Nightmare. Did I want the other thing? Nah pet, cancel the whole thing. Cancel it all. If I’m sorting this mother out then I guess I’m doing it on my own.

What about my £12.65 though? I had to wait a whole some hours before it arrived back in my bank account the same day. I don’t have time to waste, I’ve got a blocked sink here!

Time to use my initiative, which is dangerous at the desk of times. The only tool I had at my disposal which was likely to get through the holes in the plug strainer thing was a cable tie. With trepidation I lowered the tie down the hole not expecting anything to happen. Wham, bosch, suddenly the blockage was gone and the water drained away like a champ. Whatever was down there could not take the strain of my force and it was gone daddy gone. Wham.

I’d wasted a good 45 minutes on this whole affair and I am glad that it’s chuffing over. Nightmare.

The kitchen of the future

We’re getting a new kitchen. This is an exciting time for us, and also for everyone we know, so please rest assured that we will be sharing stories and pictures of this thrilling adventure at every opportunity.

Having decided to buy our kitchen from one of the big kitchening retailers, we had the room measured up and then attended a design appointment where all the possibilities for filling a space with plywood cupboard units were explored in full. We compared paint samples, touched various worktop textures and considered the merits of many differnet taps. Finally, when our choices had been entered into the supercomputer, we held hands and watched as our brand new kitchen was rendered in Hollywood-style 3D graphics before our very eyes. The kitchenologist even printed out a picture of it so we could take it home and gaze on it in our own time.

Our present kitchen, as you may recall, has pale yellow doors and a wooden worktop, arranged in a U-shape around the walls and sticking out on a peninsula. Our new kitchen, which is going to be totally different and better in every regard, will have creamy off-white doors and a natural stone-coloured quartz worktop, arranged in a U-shape around the walls and sticking out on a peninsula.

While the new kitchen will be far better built than the old one, incorporating improvements such as the upper cupboards not leaning precariously off the walls and the worktops not soaking up colourful patches of everything we’ve ever placed on them, the clever 3D render is not that detailed.

When we got home with our print-out, we excitedly stood in the dining room and held it up at the appropriate angle in front of the old kitchen. It appeared for all the world to be a picture of our existing kitchen.

We have put the picture away.

Where to wee

A few months ago, my department was moved downstairs as we were merged in with another similar department. Now we all sit in the same place. Our new surroundings are in the basement, as befits our status. Engineers do not need daylight, and are not to be allowed to have it. We are so deep in the basement that Bakerloo line trains cause an audible rumble through the walls every few minutes. We’ve calculated that they might actually be slightly above our floor level.

One interesting feature of the sub-basement where we have been hidden away, as though we are some sort of embarassment, is the shortage of toilet facilities. It’s almost like this floor was designed for apparatus rooms and storage areas, and the idea that teams of people might spend their lives down there wasn’t considered by the architects.

That leaves me with a choice of three sub-optimal toilets, as follows.

Toilet One is a single cubicle, self-contained with a sink and hand dryer, located a short walk from our room, but close to other rooms where people work so it’s often busy. If you flush the toilet the sink tap stops running, so you have to wash your hands before you flush or (more often) you forget to wash your hands before you flush so you then stand there for several minutes waiting for the cistern to slowly refill before you can get a trickle of water on your hands.
Toilet Two is another single self-contained cubicle, not much further away, but located at a little kitchen area where people come to make tea. From inside the cubicle you can hear everything people say and do at the kitchen, and I know from experience that people in the kitchen can hear everything that happens in the toilet cubicle. I don’t like that at all. Once I sat in there for the whole time it took someone to make a round of tea because I didn’t want them to hear me having a poo.
Toilet Three is yet another self-contained cubicle, and technically a disabled toilet with one of those seats that feels a bit higher up than it should be. The automatic tap makes a massive noise when you wash your hands, like a siren going off to alert anyone nearby to the fact that you’re using a disabled toilet. It’s a long walk away from the room where I work on the other side of two security doors. Someone once came out of it when I was approaching to go in who gave me a really angry look.

I haven’t yet decided which of these is the least worst, but please keep me in your thoughts as I struggle to find somewhere satisfactory to go for a wee at work.

Modern technology

What is the one area of your life that modern technology has yet to change? Which of your household appliances has so far failed to make its way to the twenty first century?

We all know what the answer is, and thankfully Pouring Beans Technology Division is here with the solution. Yes – what you need is a ToiletPhone™.

For the times you run out of toilet roll
For the times the lock on the bathroom door gets stuck
For the times you get lonely while doing a really long wee
For the times you want to call your significant other with a live update on your child’s potty training progress
For the times you need to call your toilet’s technical support line

It’s the new appliance every home needs, and Pouring Beans will deliver and install it for just £996.95.

Call today!

New flat

If you’ve been tapping my phone calls or you have psychic powers, you’ll already be aware that Elena and I have now concluded our search for a new home, a process that scoured the whole of south-east England and involved evicting a large number of people whose homes we thought we liked but then – tragically for those involved – decided weren’t quite right.

The Beans must, naturally, get the exclusive scoop on our new lodgings, so this post is here to present all the key details. Unfortunately no photographs of the dwelling are available at this time, but I am able to present the floor plan, as drawn up by the estate agent.

Floorplan

The main things we were looking for were space, lots of natural light, easy access to a station, and sufficient bathroom facilities. On the last point we had already ruled out apartments with just one bathroom on the grounds that, if we both needed a wee at the same time, it might start an argument. We then wondered what would happen if we had a dinner party and everyone wanted a wee at the same time – clearly some sort of ugly fracas or kerfuffle would ensue.

We were, therefore, delighted to find a home that anticipated this requirement – and, thanks to extremely innovative placement of its toilet facilities, it also has the advantage that during a dinner party everyone could simultaneously micturate without leaving the room and therefore without needing to interrupt the flow of the conversation. And of course, when there’s only the two of us, we can more or less go to the toilet wherever we are without having to move.

We look forward to welcoming you to our new home once we’ve moved in. Please bring your own toilet roll.

Dear Beans… My Sink Shambles

Dear Beans,

I have a problem I need your assistance with.

Recently I went through a series of unfortunate circumstances in my bathroom (wa-hey (what?!)) which warranted a few posts, an award-winning film starring Robert Downey Jr and a nationwide book tour which culminated in worldwide fame and acclaim. Since then, well, I have tried to duplicate the dizzy heights of ‘Tap Saga’ but no matter what I do it’s just not the same.

I mean how can you replicate the thrill of smashing a sink with your own bare hands then spending months trying to find a replacement only for it to turn up smashed courtesy of Parcelforce? How can you hope to rustle up the same raw emotion as super gluing yourself to a sink for good merit? What kind of activity can deliver wanton exasperation on the same level as countless trips to B & Q because I had forgotten to purchase the correct pipes?

It’s a pointless exercise. During the day I find myself drawn towards the idea of breaking someone else’s bathroom suite. When I walk into the toilets at work I have to stop myself from smashing the carefully crafted porcelain shapes and bowls with a makeshift claw hammer, put together using (I don’t know, what do IT people use to make stuff, ummm, microchips, yeah, that’s believable, nifty!) microchips and circuit boards. Even now writing this letter I’m developing a cold sweat knowing the wash basin next door is fully-functional yet all it would take is one swift kick to the ajax and it would come tumbling down.

Please offer your advice in a thrilling manner.

Kind Regards

Kevin “Kevindo Menendez” Hill

The end (probably) of #TapSaga

That’s it. It’s over. For now at least anyway.

If anyone ever suggests to you that changing the taps in the bathroom is a quick and easy way to ‘refresh’ your room, my advice is to punch them swiftly in the face.

Let me give you a summary of what has gone on so far in #TapSaga in abbreviated bullet list format: