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architectnews · 3 years

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Ten kitchens with islands that make food preparation easier and more enjoyable

For this lookbook, we've chosen ten kitchen interiors featuring kitchen islands that are both practical and sociable.

Kitchen islands are freestanding counter-height units that are usually rectangular in shape and offer additional storage and preparation space.

They work particularly well in open-plan spaces, providing a clear line of sight between the kitchen and dining areas and offering a place where people can gather.

Here are ten architecture and interior projects that feature kitchen islands including one utilising a repurposed carpenter's bench and another informed by the work of artist Donald Judd.

This is the latest roundup in our Dezeen Lookbooks series providing visual inspiration for the home. Previous kitchen-related posts feature green kitchens, terrazzo kitchens and kitchens with skylights.

Casa Aguantao, Chile, by Guillermo Acuña Arquitectos Asociados

Santiago studio Guillermo Acuña Arquitectos Asociados used pale pine for this linear kitchen, with the multi-functional island drawing the eye down the length of the narrow, glazed dwelling towards the living area and terrace beyond.

The kitchen island features a large stainless steel sink and a hob at one end, with the other end serving as a dining table. The far end of the island incorporates a wood-burning stove that faces the lounge.

Find out more about Casa Aguantao ›

White Rabbit House, UK, by Gundry & Ducker

For the revamp of a 1970s house in London, British architecture studio Gundry & Ducker added this kitchen island painted a striking shade of absinthe green.

The countertop, which features a large cantilever on one side to create a breakfast bar, is made of dark terrazzo set with white stone chips. With full-height storage behind it, the island faces a generous-sized room with two glazed double doors that open onto the garden.

Find out more about White Rabbit House ›

Rylett House, UK, by Studio 30 Architects

Studio 30 Architects repurposed an old carpenter's workbench into a quirky island for this Victorian home renovation project.

The vintage wooden bench contrasts with the contemporary white kitchen units that line two walls. It serves as a sculptural bar that links the food-preparing area to the dining area on the other side of the spacious garden-facing room.

Suspended white Aim lights by the Bouroullecs hang above the island.

Find out more about Rylett House ›

Glyn House, UK, by Yellow Cloud Studio

Striking black terrazzo surface with large, colourful aggregate clads all but one side of this minimalist kitchen island designed by Yellow Cloud Studio for a home extension project.

A double layer of oak drawers with bronze pull-tab handles sits below the kitchen-facing side of the counter, which has a flush hob. The other side of the island overhangs to create a narrow breakfast bar, beyond which is a dining table with bench seating set against an exposed brick wall.

Find out more about Glyn House ›

Hass House, USA, by Feuerstein Quagliara

Architecture firm Feuerstein Quagliara designed not one but two parallel islands for the open-plan kitchen, dining area and living room in this house in rural New York state.

Set at ninety degrees to the full-height storage along one wall, the islands' bases are made of the same plywood as the cupboards and are topped by slabs of polished concrete.

One island is inset with a deep sink and an induction hob and features a breakfast-bar niche for two adjustable-height Camp Stools by Chicago designer Greta de Parry.

Find out more about Hass House ›

Lake Geneva Residence, USA, by Collective Office

Chicago architecture practice Collective Office created a sharp, monolithic island to divide the kitchen and dining area of this contemporary take on a farmhouse in Wisconsin.

The island is made of a solid-surface material by Caesarstone that resembles rugged concrete and has pale wood-fronted cupboards underneath.

The colour palette complements the silvery shingles of Alaskan yellow cedar that clad the home's exterior. An extra sink is set into the countertop and there are handy electric outlets at one end.

Find out more about Lake Geneva Residence ›

Step House, UK, by Grey Griffiths Architects

A grey, altar-like island sits in the middle of the open-plan kitchen-diner of this London extension project by Grey Griffiths Architects.

Deep timber shelves provide storage and display space along the side that faces the dining table, with a sink with an angled mixer tap set in the middle of the kitchen side.

Find out more about Step House ›

Ritson Road, UK, by Gresford Architects

Pink is the theme of this kitchen extension built by Gresford Architects from rosy-hued coloured concrete in London's Hackney neighbourhood. The vintage-style room has units along opposite walls, with a traditional Aga cooker on one side. The dining table is in an adjoining but separate space.

The narrow kitchen island, which sits in the centre of the room, has pink cupboards with slot handles. The apricot-coloured marble counter is cut away to make space for a traditional ceramic butler sink.

Find out more about Ritson Road ›

Shallmar Residence, Canada, by StudioAC

Canadian architectural practice StudioAC referenced the work of artist Donald Judd with this sculptural kitchen island for an art-filled house in Toronto.

The island is formed of four grey cubes made by kitchen materials brand Neolith and is topped by an offset white slab, which is interrupted only by a small recessed sink.

Find out more about Shallmar Residence ›

Barcelona Extension, Spain, by Bonba Studio

A simple wood-clad kitchen island provides extra surface space and a breakfast bar with bar stools in this kitchen extension by Bonba Studio.

A plain white countertop contrasts with the deep red terracotta tiles that lead out to the patio, creating a functional and spacious-feeling open-plan kitchen diner. It is illuminated by three pendant lights.

Find out more about Barcelona Extension ›

This is the latest in our series of lookbooks providing curated visual inspiration from Dezeen's image archive. For more inspiration see previous lookbooks showcasing peaceful bedrooms, calm living rooms and colourful kitchens.

The post Ten kitchens with islands that make food preparation easier and more enjoyable appeared first on Dezeen.

#Architecture – Dezeen

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magicoldcottage · 6 years

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Puzzlewood, Uk

What happens when a Celtic Iron mine in the Forest of Dean, that was briefly also mined by the romans is totally abandoned for 2000 years

Nature takes over and one of the most magical places in the UK is formed.

Now finally open to the public with toilets and charming cafe. The trails take you all around the food and are perfect for children (there is also a sound garden for them). For Pagans Oak, Beech, Ash, Lime and Yew have all made this magical wood home.

It was after a visit to Puzzlewood that J.R.R Tolkien was inspired to write the Lord of the Rings series. If it look familiar it because the wood has also appeared in lots of films and TV shows including Merlin and Dr Who.

There are lots of hidden benches made from Yew, to hide from the world and simply relax in the peace.

Use the #magicoldcottage tab below for my other original content

#day out #explore #wood #enchanted #magical #water witch #meditation #forest of dean #lord of the rings #merlin #dr who #magicoldcottage

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a-copper-butterfly · 5 years

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Title Suggestions Needed!

OK so i posted this before but i have edited it a bit and added a new intro. im still not sure if i should continue this but what the hay, have a look and give us some feed back. :)

here is my re-write of good omens where the ineffable husbands raise Adam.

Monday, five days before the end of the world.

It was sunny, well, as sunny as it every was in the centre of London.

For those you don’t know, London is a vaguely potato shaped blob about ten miles across, with its own weather system which is almost entirely different to that of the rest of the UK.

Warlock was moping along his nose glued to his phone (not literally, thought Crowley sometimes wished he could get close enough with some glue without the little nuisance noticing.) Warlock had perfected the art of nearly completely ignoring the world around him, but remining just aware enough that he could complain at anyone who might distract him. His mother was walking along admiring the sculptures, pausing now and then to read an information sign. She did this much in the same manner as most people the world over when they want to look more intelligent than they are. They don’t actually read what is written on the information board, just frown and nod like you agree with what ever had been said then point to it and repeat a few lines when a friend or family member joins you. Thus, the whole cycle repeats itself.

A little way from the stroppy pre-teen, representatives of both heaven and hell discussed the fate of the world.

“I mean, he could just disappear,” suggested the Demon. He was slouched on the wooden bench. This was a master level slouch of someone who had trained for years to hold his body in such a position. A normal person if attempting this would pull a muscle if not worse.

The Angel that sat prim and proper next to him frowned,

“I don’t see how hiding him would help?” he said, which earned a glare form his companion. The thick sunglasses that covered the Demons yellow eyes obscure the fond irritation directed at the angel.

“I mean kill him Angel,” he clarified.

The Angel shuffles in his seat uncomfortable about this conversation. He tried to change the subject, but not too much avail.

“Are you going to get him a dog?” Azriaphale looks over at Crowley, know full well that he had been asked to provide the hound and that this was purely a diversion.

“I thought you were going to sort that out.” Crowley responded, rolling his concealed eyes.

“Why are we getting him a dog anyway.”

Crowley gave a side glances at his companion, silently noting the use of “we”.

Azriaphale wasn’t done with his grumbling, “Do remember the hamster?” he continued.

“Sir hamserlot? Yeah.” Crowley cringed at the memory of the tan and white little rodent. The poor thing when through so meant names it was a wonder it didn't have identity issues.

“How meant times did we have to pull that poor creature back from the jaws of death?” Aziraphale says shaking his head. The poor thing had eventual snuffed it permanently when the boy had gotten it into his head that hamsters could swim. They can, much like rats, but being put in a crudely made ship and pushed out on a duck pond in the middle of winter would be terminal for most rodents or any other small mammal.

A dog is a bit bigger. This was the only argument Crowley could come up with at the time.

“Well” Azriaphale relented “he is a bit older now.”

Crowley shuffled further into his slouch.

“It's the end if the world Angel.” He muttered gloomily, “Just give the kid what he wants. And he wants a dog.”

Aziraphale flinched at this painful truth.

“Well you have a point dear. Fine, he can have a dog.”

There was a pause as they watched Warlock ignore the world around him and play on his phone. The cartoonish sounds of games annoying the people around him. Crowley smirked; apps had been one of his ideas. Well, according to hell they were. Humans were always doing his job for him; he just took the credit when the higher ups asked about it. He sighs and slips back into the conversation about the end of the world.

“We’d better be there when the dog arrives” Crowley said darkly.

“Oh, I don’t think that’s necessary. I think he can look after himself and a dog for a few hours. He is old enough now, don’t you think?” Aziraphale smiles nodding in agreement with himself.

Crowley shot the angel a withering look.

“I meant the hellhound and Warlock, not some overly excited puppy with a bladder size of a spoon. This is going to a monster. The biggest they have got, according to downstairs.”

Aziraphale lip touched in a pout. “Oh” was all he said.

“I'm going as waiting staff don't want people recognizing me.” Crowley continued. “Can you bring him?”

“He said he doesn’t want to go. Said warlock isn't fun to hang out with anymore.” Aziraphale said, fumbling with a button on his sleeve cuff.

“Too bad. He is going to seeing a lot more of him whether he likes it or not. That is if there is anything after.” Crowley responded darkly. He still hadn’t figure how they were going to make it through the next few days.

A sudden though shot through Aziraphale mind.

“I could be the entertainment! I’ll brush up on my magic!” he said excitedly, beaming at the idea.

“Oh no, angel, please don’t. Really, it’s humiliating.” Crowley protested, “You can do miracles, why bother doing sleight of hand when you’re not good at it?” Aziraphale bounced in his seat. This was going to be fun.

One late august night just outside the small village of Tadfield,

When a snake regurgitates its food, its normally because it had been grabbed or handle soon after eating or is otherwise subjected to stress.

As Crowley knelt in damp grass on the bank beside the road, he wiped his mouth. The light from the Bentley’s open door revealing the grey sludge that was even now burning the grass. The small part of Crowley’s mind that wasn’t screaming in panic wondered when the last time he had eaten was. Without the help of the rest of his brain, he guessed around six years ago.

Pushing himself up onto wobbly legs, Crowley slid back into the driving seat, switched on the radio as he did so. As he pulled the car back onto the road, Crowley checked the rear-view mirror. The carry cot was still there. This was real.

“Shit, shit, shit, why me, why me?” he muttered to himself. The radio crackle,

“BECAUSE YOU EARNED IT CROWLEY” came the voice of Freddy Mercury.

“Fuck…” though Crowley.

Sister Annabelle Houghton was totally normal, much to the annoyances of her parents. They were traditional occultists who gave her supposedly cursed china dolls and pretty, frilly dresses in attempts to get her possessed. They had even moved at an old house which the nice estate agent had made very clear was the site of quite a few murders and ghost stories. It even had its own graveyard in the garden. Her swing was hung in an old knarred oak tree which legend had it was used as a hangman’s gibbet, but she never used it. When Annabelle eventually grew up, her parents had lamented and had sent her off to the Sisterhood of Chattering Nuns of St Beryl. Not too worried about this, Annabelle went along as she thought it might be interesting.

Now she sat looking out of one of the convent’s window keeping watch for the arrive of Master Crowley and the baby boy he carried with him. The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. She was very excited; this was a big day and she, Sister Annabelle, would be part of it. A cup of tea sat on the windowsill beside her. It had gone cold hours ago, No matter.

A car came screaming through the gates of the convert an excitement jolting up her spine. Sister Annabelle leapt from her seat and began to quickly click her way down the hall towards the foyer. She turned the corner expecting to see one of her sisters talking to Master Crowley but broke into a run when she saw which sister it was. It wasn’t that she didn’t like Sister Mary Loquacious, she was a lovely person when you were sat having a chat, it was just that things, important things, tended to go wrong when she was involved.

“Mother Superior! Mater Crowley is here!” she half-yelled, her fists full of her skirt as she leaped down the three little steps leading up to the corridor. Crowley quickly ducked behind a column in responses to the shouting. Shouting mostly lead to pitchforks, torches and a bad time for him.

“Greeting Master Crowley” she said, tried to smile and make her voice sound cheerful but her eyes were screaming at Sister Mary Loquacious. If she wasn’t holding The Anti-Christ, she may have shoved her out of harm’s way (harm’s way meaning any damage Sister Loquacious could cause to others, not the other way around). Sister Annabelle stopped next to her sister, peering at the bundle in her arms. The baby gurgled quietly. She quickly curtsied to Master Crowley who was still looking between the nuns wondering if he could slip out before anyone noticed.

The double doors leading to the hospital rooms flew open and a furious old nun stormed through. This was not part of the plan. She ran her icy gaze over the two nuns, who both know the consequences of that stare. Her eyes found Crowley who was trying not to look like a rabbit in the headlights, he was a demon after all. There was no escape now.

Long hair, sunglasses, modern suit, snakeskin shoes? Not what she though one of hell’s best demons would look like. She raised an eyebrow and forced a smile.

“Master Crowley, you’re just in time.” she walked slowly with an air of control. Crowley drew himself up to his full height. The Mother Superior had the eyes of a school master and they are well known for making even the naughtiest individuals squirm.

“Sister Annabelle, please go and retrieve the child of the ambassador and inform the other sisters that the switch will be taking places presently.” she smiled at the terrified nun who swallowed and nodded, turning to hurrying down the hall. Crowley tried to sidle towards the door. He stopped dead when the older nun eyes dropped on him. He tried to give her a confident smile.

“Master Crowley, if you would just pop over to the desk, we have a few papers for you to sign just to keep everything in order.” she turned and glided over to the foyer desk and began to draw papers out of a file. Crowley reluctantly followed her, dumping the now empty carry cot on the desk before propping himself up on it.

Sister Mary Loquacious frowned. She rocked the Anti-Christ in her arms. He was chewing on his hand. She had checked, it didn’t have claws. She looked up at Master Crowley and frowned again. She walked over to the desk,

“Umm Master Crowley?” she asked and terrifying yellow eyes looked at her over dark sunglasses. Something in the very pit of her soul screamed and told her to run. It was the same part that makes skulls scary, even though they are always smiling. She took a step back,

“Yeah?” he grunted. Mother Superiors levelled her glare at the Sister. She didn’t notice, now over the shock of yellow eyes she felt bolder,

“What is going to happen to the spare baby?” she asked. Crowley rolled his eyes to the Mother superior who was trying to set the younger nun on fire via sheer force of will. Without taking her eyes of her pray the Mother Superior said,

“Yes, that was something I was going to ask you as well Master Crowley. We are willing to go through with the switch, but we want nothing to do with disposing of the baby,” her eyes now turned on Crowley “We may be satanic Nuns, but we are not monsters.” Crowley paused at this juxtaposition. He huffed and turned back to the paperwork, one of hells better inventions,

“Put it in the carry cot, I will deal with it,” Crowley replied absentmindedly. “Sure, why not?” Crowley thought “Not like it will matter in a few years anyway”. Sister Mary Loquacious ginned the kind of grin that would suggest she didn’t quite understand what was going on.

“Sister Mary, please take The Young Lord down to Sister Annabelle.” Mother Superior said as she started pulling out more official looking papers. Crowley slouched at the prospect of more paperwork. Sister Mary Loquacious nodded happily and pushed through the double doors leading to the hospital rooms. Now that The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness was out of eyesight, Crowley felt a weight off his back. He no longer wanted to vomit.

Sister Mary Loquacious had found a potable cot for the anti-Christ, in which he now rested. his red blanket tucked around him. She pushed him down the hall spotting sister Annabelle pushing a similar cot out of room 4. Sister Mary paused outside room 3 ready to make the swap. A putrid smell began to waft up the hall. Both sisters gaged. A similar smell began to rise form the baby in the cot in front of Sister Mary and the babies began to cry in unison. Sister Annabelle reached Sister Mary, her face pushed into her shoulder and her eyes watering.

“I think our lord has made us an offering,” she gaged as she spoke, “and this little man has also given us a gift too”. She pushed open the door to delivery room 3 and hurriedly pushed the cot in. Sister Mary followed with her own charge.

“You change the babies and I will fetch the carry cot from Master Crowley.”. It was clearly just a excuse to getting out of having to be in same room as the stench for any longer but Sister Mary didn’t want to argue. The smell was truly awful.

In the bed, Mrs Young turned over a frown wrinkling her brow, some internal mothering instinct told her that a baby needed changing but something else told her it wasn’t hers so sleep on.

Sister Mary hesitated as she plucked the Anti-Christ from his cot and laid him on the changing table beside the door. She unwrapped the blanket and dropped it back in the cot. The baby whimpered as she removed the dirty nappy and cleaned him. She cooed at him. “Imagine little me changing the Destroyer of worlds’ nappy and powdering his little tush.” Sister Mary thought to herself. The baby in the other cot began to cry.

The mother in the bed yawned but stayed asleep. In an attempted sooth the baby, Sister Mary picked the ambassadors baby up. He was a chunky baby and quite heavy. Sister Mary had to shift him about a bit before they were both comfortable. The white blanket was lost in this juggling. As she bounced the baby the door to the room opened. Expecting sister Annabelle, Sister Mary turned to face the door where a man peering around the door.

“Err Hello. I’m the father, the husband, whatever.” He stammered, walking over to stand by his wife. Looking up he wondered over to the babies looking down at the baby on the changing table.

“Is this him?” he asked in awe. The baby looked up at him and immediately began to cry. Terrified about what he had done he scooped up the baby and began to pat his back.

“Umm no, these two not yours. Your baby is with your wife over there.” She nodded towards Mrs Young and the cot next to her.

Sister Mary was beginning to gag over the smell coming from the baby in her arms, she laid him on the changing table and began to clean him up.

After soothing the baby in his arms, Mr Young laid the baby down in the empty crib. He picked up the white blanket and tucked it around the baby. He walked over to the cot next to his wife and looked down at the baby. A small part of him was hopeful that he would look upon the face of his child and instantly recognized it as his own. But when he looked down at the sleeping baby, he looked identical to the two with the nun. This one was a little smaller but there wasn’t a moment of recognition. Of course, he didn’t say that. He smiled and looked back at the nun who was disposing of the nappy in a small bin next to the table.

“You know he looks like me.” He said proudly. The Nun smiled at him, rewrapping the baby,

“Have you thought of a name?” she asked. There was a nervous air about her. That probably came with having to look after two babies at once. He had new respect for people with twins and triplets.

They had discussed names but not come to any solid concoctions, they had a name if it had been a girl and after twitching the blanket back it couldn’t be used anymore. The baby snuffled in its sleep; Mr. Young jumped back afraid that he would make it cry like he had the other child.

“We haven though of any names for a boy,” he explained as the nun had finished changing the baby in front of her. Then, looking down at the second with a frown, she looked at the baby in her arms. After a moment hesitant, she seemed to come to a conclusion and plopped it in the second cot wrapping it in the red blanket.

“Well, what about the classic like Luke, John, Adam. Bible names and the like?” She rocked the babies in the cots. Mr. Young though about this for a second as he looked back at his son. He didn’t really look like any of those names, but they were good honest names. Suddenly a nun scuttled into the room. She looked a little out of breath. She looked at Mr. Young the way one would look at a velociraptor. She managed to school her features and smile at him.

Sister Annabelle had returned to the front desk and immediate run into Mr. Young who had asked what room his wife was in. Directing the man to the room without a though until she had picked up the carry cot. She had just sent an imposter into the same room as The Adversary, Destroyer of Kings, Angel of the Bottomless Pit, Great Beast that is called Dragon, Prince of this world, Father of Lies, Spawn of Satan, and Lord of Darkness. Picking up her heels again, she took off down the hall and was now stood with Sister Mary, two babies and the carry cot. She turned her slightly manic smile on Sister Mary. She winked. Sister Mary Winked back. They smiled at each other.

“Baby removal services,” she laughed pushing the baby with the red blanket out of the room. She pointed at the carry cot next to the remaining baby and nodded down the hall. Sister Mary nodded back. She placed the carry cot on the changing surfaces and placed the remaining baby in the white blanket in it. Scooping up baby and carry cot she moved to leave the room,

“Umm,” said Mr. Young using the tone of someone who doesn’t want to be a bother but is no doubts going to be a problem.

“Is there any paperwork I need to fill in,” he asked nervously. Always ready to be helpful, Sister Mary nodded and beckoned for him to follow her. It wasn’t until they entered the hall that she realized this might have been a bad decision. She could see Master Crowley’s back to her when Mr. Young held the door open. Trying to think fast she walked up to him putting the now full carry cot next to him on the desk.

“Here is you son Master Crowley,” she said as way of explanation. The yellow eyes turned on her and the primal urge to run shot up her spine. Mr. Young was too distracted to notice, walking up next to her and leaned against the desk.

“Umm, does the birth certificate need signing?” he asked looking over the desk at all the papers. The Mother Superior who had been overseeing Crowley filling out all the correct papers in the right places. It wouldn’t do to have buggered up the paperwork on such a big job. She pulled a file over the papers and put on her best plastic smile. She flicked through the relevant files and produced a birth certificate for Mr. Young. She also pulled one out and handed it to Crowley. Conscious of the presents of Mr. Young, Crowley took the offered page. Mr. Young peeked into cot at the baby.

“He’s a cute one,” he says trying to rope Crowley into a conversation so he can talk about his own kid. Crowley doesn’t acknowledge him. Not deterred, Mr. Young filled in the birth certificate leaving the name till last. He still needed to talk to his wife about it.

“Though of a name yet?” he asked. Again, this was met by silenced. Mr. Young looked over at Crowley, he was well dressed and very out of places here. He didn’t have the look of expectant father. He looked worried.

“We were thinking about Adam,” he continued. This conversation was going to happen even if he had to do it himself. However, this got a reaction out of the other man. He laughed. He snorted then laughed out loud.

“Something wrong with Adam?” Mr. Young questioned, getting slightly defensive over a possible name for his son. The man pushed his long hair back away from his face. He was handsome, even Mr. Young had to admit that.

“No, it’s a fine name. But I knew an Adam once, he was a complete bastard,”.

Sister Mary giggled under her breath. But then frowned at the thought of how a demon knew the original Adam. She puzzled over this for the rest of the conversation.

Mr. Young let his shoulders drop,

“What would you suggest then?” he asked sheepishly. Crowley turned on him and Mr. Young had to squash a sudden urge to back away and make himself small. Crowley looks him up and down before speaking. His emotionless sunglasses making it feel like he wasn’t blinking. He wasn’t but behind the glasses no one could tell.

“Something royal may be. Henry, James, William?” he suggested. Mr. Young felt better about these names.

Crowley looked back at the almost complete page in front of him.

“It doesn’t matter, it will all be over in eleven years anyway.” Crowley mumbled glumly as he looked at the last section of the certificate

FIRST NAME:

It was blank. He stared at it. Did he have to name it?

“Oh,” Mr. Young said confused. In an effort to change the typic he looked into the cot again, “You know, he looks like an Adam.” he added.

Crowley huffed but he couldn’t think of anything better. Plus, it made sense in an ironic way. Crowley scribbled the name down on the final dotted line on the page pushing it towards the nun. He snatched the carry cot of the desk and strode out the lobby. Mr. Young tried to wave goodbye, but Crowley was long gone.

Sister Annabelle handed the baby to the ambassador’s wife who looked down at him with the love of a first-time mother,

“Sorry that took so long Your Ladyship, he is such a scrumptious little man. Every nun in the convent had to coo at him,” Sister Annabelle sighed as she stood back, her job was done. She really needs a cup of tea now.

Mother Superior quietly pushed open the door and came in.

“Oh what a little lord,” she said causing all nuns in the room to smile. “Have you thought of a name?”

The convent burnt down that night. However, the only paperwork that was destroyed was form that night. Apart from the birth certificate of one James Henry Young

Crowley pulled the Bentley into a short dead-end road that was the entrances to a farmer’s field. He cut the engine and the lights of the snarling beast of a car disappeared, leaving only the dark hedgerow in front of him.

The silence enveloped the car, seeming to seep in through all the gaps in the doors and poured out of the vents. Soon Crowley was engulfed in it. He paused, appreciating the moment. The sound of the engine cooling was the only noise that could be heard inside the car. The carry cot next to him cooed. He looked over at his new acquisition and pulled it closer to him. He carefully pulled the small and oh so delicate baby out and laid him across his knees looking up at him. The baby yawned but seemed very much awake. The white blanket that was bundled around him stopping his arms from moving.

Crowley huffed and rubbed his faces pushing his glasses off slightly. He squeezed his eyes shut and began to mutter at the baby,

“Okay first test,”

He pulled his glasses off completely and crouched over the baby sticking his tough out. Letting the glamor over it drop so the tips flicked over the babies scrunched up little nose. His eyes almost glowed yellow in the darkness he didn’t show his true, true form just these small parts. The Baby screeched and Crowley jerked back worried, but unsurprised, that he had terrified the poor thing. When the screech turned into a gurgling laugh, he looked back at the baby who had wiggled free an arm and was grabbing at Crowley with a gummy grin. Slight confused Crowley rewrapped the baby in his white blanket and shifted it to be cradled in his arms,

“Okay so you passed the first test. Now we need to go other some ground rules if this arrangement is going to work out.”.

The baby babbled at him trying to wiggle free of his confines. He seemed fine with the whole yellow eyes and snake toung though. Probably knew no different, Crowley wondered leaning back in the driver’s seat.

“So I will house you, feed you and take care of you until you have worked out how to use a toilet after that we can look into the walking, talking, reading, writing business but there are some conditions that you have to uphold,”.

The baby sneezed, looked shocked at this strange turn of events, blinked a few times before looking back up at the demon. Now that he had the baby’s attention again Crowley continued,

“Firstly, the family you came from, the one that has the antichrist.” The baby watched him with uncanny eyes that seemed to understand what he was saying. That or more worryingly for Crowley he was ranting at a newborn infant that had no idea what was going on and was just watching him make noises in the dark car.

“Warlock, they called him Warlock.”

The baby gave him a half smile, hoping that the smile was from recognizing the name.

“You’re gonna have to be friends with that brat. secondly you will not get in my way or interfere with my work.”

The baby yawned at him. It seemed that all the excitement was getting the better of him its eyes began to slip closed. Crowley rocked him slightly trying not to enjoy holding the child, a small part of him that was thought to be long dead, started to thaw. He placed the baby back in the carry cot in the passenger’s seat. The baby whimpered at the movement but settled back in the crib snuggling into the blanket.

Crowley backed out and onto the road, where was the nearest mother care?

Azriaphale had just got back to the book shop when the phone rang. He paused hanging his coat up on its peg, before picking it up, he suspected who it might be but wasn’t sure. He plucked the phone from the handle and held it daintily to his ear,

“I’m dreadfully sorry but I’m afraid we are closed at the...,” his polite but discouraging scripted was cut by a very familiar voice,

“It’s me Angel.”

It sounded although Crowley was making this call from a phone box. Oh dear, what trouble had he gotten himself into now.

“Crowley? Is that you?” he asked anyway knowing the answer,

“Yes. We need to talk.” He said matter of factly.

“Yes, I rather think we do.” Azriaphale thought of the conversation he had had with Gabriel earlier that day.

Crowley looked through the window of the Bentley at the sleeping baby inside. He hung up the phone and got back into the car. He looked over at the child. He was so small. Crowley stroked his cheek with a black nailed finger.

“You have no idea what is going on. I envy you Adam,” the baby sighed in his sleep.

#good omens #good omens fic #Ineffable Husbands #crowley x aziraphale #crowley good omens #aziraphale good omens #adam young good omens #fanfic

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gaylotusthatexists · 6 years

Text

raindrops on roses

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairings: Moxiety

Rating: General

Brief Description: Virgil always loved the rain. And he loved his spot in the park, where he could watch the raindrops fall onto the roses. However, his peace is disturbed one day when a stranger shows up, soaking wet from the rain. Virgil now has to deal with this new fellow, whilst still enjoying the beautiful rain.

Word Count: 1493

also on ao3

Notes: haha so i totally didn't write this because it just started to rain after m o n t h s of heat here in the uk. we got a brief thunderstorm! finally! so yeah here we have virgil enjoying that as well. the songs used in this fic are 'build god, then we'll talk' by panic! at the disco, and 'my favourite things' from the sound of music. this isn't really a song fic, but it's worth mentioning that they are here. hope you enjoy!

Raindrops on roses-

Virgil heard pattering on glass as he lay in bed, scrolling mindlessly through Tumblr, one of his favourite songs playing in the background. He frowned, and looked up, noticing a few drops of rain on the window. It hadn't rained in days. Huh.

-and girls in white dresses-

He stood up, and made his way over, opening the window slightly. The sound only became louder. A smile forming across his face, he closed the window again, and grabbed his phone, plugging in his headphones and making his way downstairs.

-it's sleeping with roaches-

As he stepped into the living room, he noticed his brother, Roman, curled up on the sofa, with the TV on and the curtains closed. His rainbow-dyed hair was dripping, and his clothes appeared to be slightly damp. Virgil supposed he must have just been out in the garden, but had come in as it started to rain.

-and taking best guesses-

"Hey, dude, you alright?" Virgil asked, sitting on the arm of the closest chair.

Roman looked up. "Do I look alright to you? I'm completely soaked!" he complained.

"It's not that bad-"

"It is when you have to desperately run down the street to get shelter!"

Virgil rolled his eyes. "Sure. Well, I'm going for a walk, so..." He saluted Roman, before beginning to head back out of the living room and out of the house.

-at the shade of the sheets and before all the stains-

"You are insane," Roman stated.

Virgil shrugged. "Yeah. Pretty much. See ya!"

-and a few more of your least favourite things.

The door slammed shut behind Virgil as the song came to a close. He was immediately hit with breeze of cold air, which he was thankful for. He was starting to get sick of all this warm weather, and rain and wind was more than welcome at the point. He began to walk down the street, revelling in the fact there was nobody around. There wouldn't be anybody around, not in this. The rain only seemed to be getting worse, as well.

He turned the corner, deciding to head for the park. The gardens there always looks pretty in the rain, for some reason. At least, they did to Virgil. Any other person would have said that it looked prettiest in the sunshine, but those people were so painfully wrong. The way that the water would drip onto the flowers, displaying a battle between the plants and the great forces of nature. It was cool, in Virgil's opinion.

It was even cooler in the dark, he thought. When the lamps would light up, and he could watch it illuminate the falling rain. God, he loved it all so much. It wasn't a rare sight to see Virgil down at the park on nights like this, sitting on his favourite bench under the great oak tree by the lake. Not that anyone ever really saw him there - nobody came out in this weather.

He reached the park, and sat straight down on that bench. It was semi-dry, thanks to the almost-shelter from the tree. Unlike Virgil, who was dripping wet. His hair was sticking to his skin, with water running down the side of his face. And his hoodie was basically ruined. Whatever. He could wash it. This wasn't the first time his hoodie had seen a storm like this.

Lightning flashed in the distance, brightening up the night sky for a split second. Oh, so it was that kind of storm? Virgil could get down with that. He loved listening to the thunder, loved watching the bright colours light up the sky, blending in with the stars. And he loved when he got home and into the warmth, and could huddle up in front of the fire without being judged for it.

"Hey, is this seat taken?" a voice said, snapping Virgil out of his mind and back to real life.

He looked up at the stranger. Shorter than him, and younger, but not by much. Light brown, curly hair, with a single strip of pink. Slightly tanned skin, and freckles all over his face. Big, brown eyes, curious eyes, filled with child-like wonder. He didn't look like a threat, but you never know. Virgil was always careful around strangers. It was in his nature. And... it was kind of startling to see a guy out on that night. Usually, this was time when Virgil could come and get some peace, alone.

"I'm Patton, by the way," the man introduced. "Patton Sanders."

Virgil frowned. "I'm, uh, Virgil. Virgil Prince. But, uh, what are you-"

"I got caught in the rain on my way home," the stranger - Patton - explained. "Virgil is a pretty name," he added, as he took a seat next to him.

Virgil shuffled away slightly, looking down to the ground as a light blush formed across his cheeks. People never complimented his name. Or knew his name, really. That felt weird. "Uh, thanks, I think."

"I see you've found yourself a nifty little shelter," Patton observed. "Staying here until the rain calms down, huh?"

Virgil shook his head. "No. I just like it here."

"But, you are gonna wait here until the rain calms down?" he repeated.

Virgil shrugged. "I guess. I dunno. I just like watching the rain."

Thunder roared in the distance, causing Patton to jump, and move closer to Virgil. Virgil looked over, examining Patton. There was a hint of fear in his eyes, like he could have a panic attack at any moment. Strange, considering how happy he seemed. And how willing he was to talk to a complete stranger.

"Hey, dude, calm down," Virgil said, in his softest voice possible. "A little rain isn't going to hurt you."

Patton took a couple deep breaths. "Yeah. You're right. I just-" A flash of lightning. He moved even closer to Virgil. "I don't like storms."

Virgil sighed. "Then what are you doing out?"

"I told you, I got caught in the rain!"

Virgil hummed. "You should get home."

Patton laughed, kind of nervously. "You see, I would do that, but..." He trailed off.

Virgil raised an eyebrow. "You're scared?" he guessed.

He nodded. "Yeah! That!"

"Ha, I've been there, buddy..." Virgil looked around the park, glancing at the flowers. "Hey, you like roses?"

Patton nodded again, more enthusiastically.

Virgil smiled, and leant to the side of the bench, picking up a white rose from the garden. He turned back around, handing it to Patton. The strangers eyes immediately lit up, staring in wonder at the flower in front of him.

"This is my favourite part about coming out here when it's raining. The way that the raindrops form on the roses."

Patton gasped. "Like the song!"

Virgil let out a simple, sharp laugh. "Yeah. Exactly."

"Raindrops on roses and whiskers on kittens," Patton began to sing. Not exactly the song Virgil had in mind, but a good song none the less. "Bright copper kettles and warm woollen mittens."

Patton had a nice voice, Virgil noticed. Soft and smooth. Not exactly the best singing voice, with him being slightly out of tune, but it had it's own sort of charm. It's own sort of innocence. Which honestly seemed to represent this guy perfectly. Plus, it was sort of calming. Like Virgil could listen to it all day, and all of his worries would just wash away.

"Brown paper packages tied up with strings,

Theses are a few of my favourite things."

Virgil smiled. "That was beautiful, Patton."

"Aw, thanks, Virgil." He grinned.

Lightning flashed once again, and Patton edged even closer. Virgil laughed. "Ok, we are getting you home. Do you know the way from here?" Patton nodded. "I'll walk there with you."

"Really?" Patton asked.

"Yup." He stood up. "So?"

Patton stood up with him, and wrapped his arms around his waist, burying his head into Virgil's chest. "Thank you," Patton whispered, still attached to him. Virgil felt... kind of awkward, in that situation. He never really... hugged people. That was more of Roman's job. Still, it was nice.

Patton pulled away, and the two walked out the park, hand-in-hand. The shorter boy lead the way back to his home, where they were greeted by a very distressed brother, who Virgil soon came to know as Logan Sanders. He left Patton at home, safe, and began his journey back to his own home. The rain had began to calm down.

As he walked, he noticed something sticking out his back pocket. Frowning, he reached around, and took out a white rose. Still covered in the raindrops... It was the same one that he had picked for Patton. Except, something was attached to it. A piece of paper. A note. A... phone number. And a request for them to meet up again sometime.

Huh. Would you look at that. Virgil had made a friend. All because of his love for raindrops on roses.

ayyyy thanks for reading yo! i hope that y’all enjoyed! feel free to like and reblog or whatever. that would be greatly appreciated.

also @trash-can-so-do-i asked to be tagged in this so here ya go buddy. i’m also gonna tag @underworldystuff ‘cause i know you’ve been looking for sanders sides fics, i hope you don't mind. and uhhh @fandersfic-moxiety why not.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #moxiety #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #my fanfiction #my fanfic #my writing

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classicmemorialbenches · 1 year

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How do i organise a memorial bench

Organizing a memorial bench can be a meaningful way to remember a loved one or honor a significant person or event. Here are some steps you can take to organize a memorial bench: Find a suitable location Contact the appropriate authorities Choose a wood memorial benches Determine the cost Arrange installation Dedicate the bench Classic benches are big heavy items and are fully assembled here at our workshop.

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arplis · 5 years

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Arplis - News: Marvelous Coat Hooks Lowes

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Arplis - News source https://arplis.com/blogs/news/marvelous-coat-hooks-lowes

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agilenano · 5 years

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Agilenano - News: Marvelous Coat Hooks Lowes

16-count Slim Grips

Hangers. Add to Idea Board. Quickview. $14.99 Each Set. Studio 3B

16-count Slim Grips

Hangers. Products 1 24 of 228 Get the hook! Hangers & hooks keep clothing off the floor; a scarf organizer or belt organizer helps stop the mad dash to get dressed.

Agilenano - News from Agilenano from shopsnetwork (4 sites) https://agilenano.com/blogs/news/marvelous-coat-hooks-lowes

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architectnews · 3 years

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Ten kitchens with islands that make food preparation easier and more enjoyable

For this lookbook, we've chosen ten kitchen interiors featuring kitchen islands that are both practical and sociable.

Kitchen islands are freestanding counter-height units that are usually rectangular in shape and offer additional storage and preparation space.

They work particularly well in open-plan spaces, providing a clear line of sight between the kitchen and dining areas and offering a place where people can gather.

Here are ten architecture and interior projects that feature kitchen islands including one utilising a repurposed carpenter's bench and another informed by the work of artist Donald Judd.

Casa Aguantao, Chile, by Guillermo Acuña Arquitectos Asociados

Find out more about Casa Aguantao ›

White Rabbit House, UK, by Gundry & Ducker

For the revamp of a 1970s house in London, British architecture studio Gundry & Ducker added this kitchen island painted a striking shade of absinthe green.

Find out more about White Rabbit House ›

Rylett House, UK, by Studio 30 Architects

Studio 30 Architects repurposed an old carpenter's workbench into a quirky island for this Victorian home renovation project.

Suspended white Aim lights by the Bouroullecs hang above the island.

Find out more about Rylett House ›

Glyn House, UK, by Yellow Cloud Studio

Striking black terrazzo surface with large, colourful aggregate clads all but one side of this minimalist kitchen island designed by Yellow Cloud Studio for a home extension project.

Find out more about Glyn House ›

Hass House, USA, by Feuerstein Quagliara

Architecture firm Feuerstein Quagliara designed not one but two parallel islands for the open-plan kitchen, dining area and living room in this house in rural New York state.

Set at ninety degrees to the full-height storage along one wall, the islands' bases are made of the same plywood as the cupboards and are topped by slabs of polished concrete.

One island is inset with a deep sink and an induction hob and features a breakfast-bar niche for two adjustable-height Camp Stools by Chicago designer Greta de Parry.

Find out more about Hass House ›

Lake Geneva Residence, USA, by Collective Office

Chicago architecture practice Collective Office created a sharp, monolithic island to divide the kitchen and dining area of this contemporary take on a farmhouse in Wisconsin.

The island is made of a solid-surface material by Caesarstone that resembles rugged concrete and has pale wood-fronted cupboards underneath.

The colour palette complements the silvery shingles of Alaskan yellow cedar that clad the home's exterior. An extra sink is set into the countertop and there are handy electric outlets at one end.

Find out more about Lake Geneva Residence ›

Step House, UK, by Grey Griffiths Architects

A grey, altar-like island sits in the middle of the open-plan kitchen-diner of this London extension project by Grey Griffiths Architects.

Deep timber shelves provide storage and display space along the side that faces the dining table, with a sink with an angled mixer tap set in the middle of the kitchen side.

Find out more about Step House ›

Ritson Road, UK, by Gresford Architects

Find out more about Ritson Road ›

Shallmar Residence, Canada, by StudioAC

Canadian architectural practice StudioAC referenced the work of artist Donald Judd with this sculptural kitchen island for an art-filled house in Toronto.

The island is formed of four grey cubes made by kitchen materials brand Neolith and is topped by an offset white slab, which is interrupted only by a small recessed sink.

Find out more about Shallmar Residence ›

Barcelona Extension, Spain, by Bonba Studio

A simple wood-clad kitchen island provides extra surface space and a breakfast bar with bar stools in this kitchen extension by Bonba Studio.

Find out more about Barcelona Extension ›

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#Architecture – Dezeen

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valmaior-blog · 6 years

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A River Runs Through It

Progress has been disappointingly slow. I have excuses of course….

Broken car

Unanticipated complications

Garden became impenetrable jungle

Delays in supply chain

Changes to plans

Portuguese red tape

Too much prevaricating about the bush

(points awarded for knowing the source of that mangled idiom)

Sickness and injuries

etc.

So, the car. I drove to Lisbon, spent a few hours there and drove back. After about 100km on the expressway, the engine suddenly felt stiff as though it was about to seize. I pulled over and checked the gauges. Engine temperature was at maximum. Before I had come to a stop, the “check gauges” light came on, and the warning chime sounded. A little earlier would have been useful!

We waited for the engine to cool down, then removed the cap – no water, and no sign of a leak. Poured in all the bottled water we had and limped to the next service area. Let the engine cool again, filled up and set off. We had to stop and refill a few more times before we got home.

The next day, I started the engine and let it idle until it was warm. The water began bubbling, but not boiling. Exhaust gas in the coolant! - so either a cracked head or a blown head gasket. I decided to assume it was the head gasket, because that would be easiest to fix. Looked for an online car spares vendor in Portugal and ordered a new gasket set. It seems that there are no online car spares companies here. The web site I ordered from is just the Portuguese front end to a German supplier. I also ordered new head bolts. They have to be replaced every time the heads are removed. “Heads”, because it transpires that my engine has 5 separate heads. It seems that Chrysler didn’t have a suitable diesel engine so obtained engines from an Italian company, and these engines were designed for a static generator.

So, off to Europcar to rent again.

One week later, the German package arrived. The head bolts (two different sizes) are of a design I have not seen before, a 12 point star drive. The manual says that a special tool is required, I cannot find a supplier. I emailed VM Motori, and they eventually replied that they are Chrysler tools, but by this time I have established that these things are also known as Torque drive, and I order a set from ebay UK – no ebay in Portugal. There is ebay in Spain, which I have used before, but same stuff is more expensive, and takes just as long to arrive. I decide to move the car to the house, about 45km– I can work undercover there, and if I make an oily mess on the floor, it is my floor. So packed the car with bottles of water, and drove as gingerly as possible. Arrived without incident and didn’t need to stop to replenish the water.

I eventually get the heads off, but worryingly the old gasket looks fine. I check the heads as thoroughly as possible, but there are no obvious problems. I replaced the gasket and put the engine back together. Reassembly is such fun. I guess that Chrysler assumed that any major work would be done with the engine on a bench. Access is extremely limited. Another fun job is tightening the 12 main head bolts, start in the middle, torque to 30 ft/lbs (can’t think in newton meters yet) continue in a zigzag pattern to the end, then opposite zigzag to the other end and back to the start. Execute the same pattern again, tightening each bolt by another 75°, then execute the same pattern again, tightening each bolt by another 75°! The second 75° needs a long lever. That does partly explain why the bolts have to be replaced every time – the bolt is actually being stretched.

Continuing, I discovered that several of the rocker assembly studs were iffy, so had to find a helicoiling kit supplier. Re-coiled 3 studs in situ, so I can now torque the nuts to the prescribed values.

Unfortunately, no change. Remove the heads again, and tried making blanking plates so that I could pressurise the heads and check for leaks in a bucket of water, but that didn’t show anything. It only seems significant when the engine is hot. Took all the valves out, checked the seats, didn’t see anything wrong. Replaced the seals at the top of the guides. Put everything back together, and ordered a compression tester, from ebay.

During this time, several weeks, I had been renewing my car rental on a weekly basis. I decided to buy a cheap car, and suspend leak hunting in favour of house fixing.

Came back to the car after a significant delay. I thought I could use it for local trips the builders merchants etc. Started the engine, and was running it to get it warm, when there came an horrific clattering noise from the top end. Stopped the engine and looked hopefully for an external cause didn’t see anything – started the engine again – same noise so switched off and gave up.

Next return to the car, I took off the rocker covers, expecting to see things bent and broken, but all looked fine. Removed all the glow plugs, and dug out the compression tester. Checked all the cylinders with the engine cold. I knew that wouldn’t diagnose my cracked head, but it would show a broken valve or piston.

Surprisingly all were fairly close. 420psi lowest, 440psi highest (can’t think in bars yet – but then that could be a family failing ;-) )

Ran the engine with the rocker cover off – no nasty noise. Hmm – could it have been a transient problem which resolved itself, perhaps an issue with one of the hydraulic tappets? or is it something lurking, and waiting to strike at a more inopportune moment….

Enough car stuff..

One day, we wandered into the garden to look at the fruit trees, and realised that the garden had gone wild. A waist high tangled mass of brambles and grass – genuinely impenetrable, so house fixing was suspended again to tackle the blackcurrant menace. After several days of vigorous hacking, we could finally access most of the garden, a few of the trees were seriously choked with ivy and brambles. (still an issue). Our big fig tree had blackcurrants at it’s crown.

I was thinking about ordering some turf to create a lawn on the upper level, but after a couple of days of rain, in October, we suddenly had a lush green lawn! Seems like Spring. - had to dig the lawn mower out.

Oh, and I found a 1 meter long snakeskin in the garden, on a patch of grass that I had mowed, so at most 2 days old. Not seen the snake, but seriously poisonous snakes are rare, so probably not a problem – probably... (another chance to earn points)

We have 3 peach trees, an orange tree, a fig tree and two fig saplings, A tree that I don’t recognise, no blossom of fruit that we noticed, but it is choked by ivy, and strangely, 4 small oak trees. Why oak? Acorns are not much use, Cork harvesting is not viable on a small scale. Some other harvest-able fruit trees would make more sense.

Some kind neighbour secretly harvested our figs for us. Understandable I guess. The peaches were not very good, we didn’t look after them, or protect them from pests, so the bugs had a feast. We salvaged a couple of edible peaches but didn’t bother picking the rest. I suspect that a neighbour noticed the peaches apparently going to waste, and chose to save the figs from the same fate.

We decided to tackle the rampant ivy that was invading the orange tree via much larger tree that had fallen against it some years ago. Disassembling the broken tree was a major task. Oddly, our house does not have a fireplace or chimney, so now we have a lot of wood which could have kept the place warm in winter.

There is a chimney in the kitchen, but no fireplace.

So, The house.

We have a 220V supply limited to 3.4kw. To upgrade, we first have to get a technical certificate issued by a qualified Portuguese electrician stating that the home installation is able to handle the increased power, Ours isn’t. Some of the cables are fabric covered, with failed insulation (guess how I know).

All the existing cables are external. Lights and power socket are all on the same circuit, clipped to skirting boards and door frames. Regulations now require that all cables run in conduits buried in the walls. I got a few quotes for a complete rewire of a 4 bedroom house.

When I had recovered from the shock (pun intended), I crossed professional rewire off the options list. Current plan is to do the rewire myself – to Portuguese standards, and then get a qualified electrician to inspect it and issue a certificate. I still haven’t found the standards in English, and Portuguese translated by Google is too risky, so no progress there yet.

The final decision for home heating was air conditioners for the rooms, and an electric thermo-accumulator (insulated pressurised hot water tank with immersion heater) for the water.

All the plumbing has been replaced and the thermo-accumulator installed (though not yet tested). The laundry room/second bathroom is still using the old plumbing until we replace the toilet and washbasin, which won’t happen until the main bathroom is functional.

Kitchen.

Found a bargain online, so rented a van and drove down to the south coast to collect it. Three guys loaded the van in about 25 minutes. Me and Ping unloaded the van in about 4 hours. We managed not to break anything, even when my fingers failed and I dropped a granite worktop on my foot. I was hobbling for a while and it was still sore 4 weeks later. That is not as silly as managing to drop a heavy chisel on my head! I left it on the top step of a very tall step ladder, and forgot it was there when I moved the ladder.

Funny thing, there were 3 guys working on a new build house opposite when we went to get the longest section of worktop from the van (3 meters) – they disappeared when we started to unload it. Another odd thing is that our kitchen is not quite rectangular – it is a parallelogram with angles of 92.5 and 87.5. This only becomes apparent when trying to fit a kitchen.

It’s beginning to look kitcheny

Yet another odd thing is that the kitchen floor is vaguely dome shaped. It obviously wasn’t always like this, because the kitchen floor tiles seem to have been laid on large rectangular (presumably concrete) rafts. At the doorways the kitchen floor is level with the external floor, but then slopes up toward the centre. Our rafts are flat but not level with noticeable gaps and height differences. The floor seems solid, so what could cause the floor to rise in the centre? The obvious first choice that the walls have subsided was quickly eliminated. Some of the walls are build directly on bedrock, so could not subside. If other walls did, there would be some significant and visible cracks. It seems unlikely that all the walls would subside at the same rate.

What could cause the floor to rise? Gas seems unlikely. Tree roots? No big trees close, and I doubt they could tunnel under walls without causing visible damage. The ground level outside the kitchen is lower then the kitchen floor by 1m on one side and 2m on the other. Hydraulic pressure? Possible, the well is right next to the kitchen, but the water level is much lower than the floor, and as the house is on a sloping site, that also seems unlikely.

The capped well next to the kitchen wall, and the water level is below ground level. The kitchen floor height is within a centimetre or so of the boundary between the brick shaped tiles, and the cement plastered wall. It seems unlikely that water is accumulating under the kitchen floor.

The bathroom has been the biggest job so far. The position of everything has been changed, so the old solid floor had to be destroyed to run new drains for the shower, toilet, bidet and washbasin. The walls had to be destroyed to remove the old steel pipes and fit new multilayer pipes.

I was originally intending to keep one tiled wall and stick new tiles on top, but decided against that. I later realised that the internal bathroom walls are actually slightly curved, and rectifying that was a major task.

A flat(ish) bathroom wall!!

The floor and walls are now fixed and flat except for the shower door area. The big delay is the shower door which is out of stock, and the delivery date is constantly being pushed back. I really need that to finish the walls, because the shower door is the full width of the bathroom. The distance between walls in the shower is 2cm less than outside. As things stand, I can adjust the position of the door. to whatever looks best. I would rather make the walls to fit the shower door rather that have to modify the door or walls later.

An issue that is more serious than I originally thought is a sloping floor in the main corridor. One side of the corridor is 5cm lower than the other at one point. This has been caused by the internal stone wall that has been built on a woefully inadequate sagging wooden beam. This has caused the internal wall to pull away from the main house wall.

In this pic you can see the gap increasing upwards up to the point where the gap was previously filled, and has continued pulling away, or rather tilting away.

The only solution is to build a supporting wall in the cellar, but to do that I would have to demolish the internal wall, and that wall supports the ceilings on both sides. The cellar has a concrete floor. I don’t know how thick the concrete is or what is beneath it, but I would replace the wall with a timber and plaster board (dry wall) construction which would be much lighter. I estimate current weight is about 3 tones. Or maybe not replace it at all if I can support the ceiling from above. I would rather not have a visible supporting beam.

While we are in the cellar, I should explain the title. We have an occasional stream in our cellar. The house is mainly built directly on the bedrock, When there is a prolonged period of rain – enough to saturate the soil, but unable to penetrate the underlying rock. a small stream flows ‘into’ the building (over the exposed rock in the cellar) and down a gully (last chance to earn points ;-)

OK, I give up. There is a little video of the stream, but I can’t put it in here, It seems to insist on being at the end of this post. So scroll down to watch now, or carry on reading and watch the vid at the end

The pic at the top was cut from this

..taken from the other side of the valley.

And this is from google earth, but is several years out of date

The trees shown in that pic don’t match what is there now.

This gives a good idea of the slope we are on, and though it looks like a cute little bungalow,

This is Ping opening the front door from the inside.

Update, the thermo-accumulator has been tested, and works better than expected. Water is still hot after 48 hours without power, and luke warm after 72 hours

Update 2, our single breaker tripped a few days ago when not under load. I needed to do some electrical stuff, so wanted the power off. I pressed a button marked “T”, which I assumed was test – nothing happened. I flipped the main breaker and completed the work. Switched it back on, and the fuse thing tripped a few minutes later. I reset it and no further problems, but looked at the box. It was marked 25A. Hmm, 25A * 220V = 5500W. I believed the electricity company when they informed me that I was limited to 3.4 kw, and was making sure that we didn’t exceed that, I have since proved that we can exceed 4.5kw without issues.

Stupid weather. Now just 1 week until December. Grass is still growing vigorously, small mosquitoes in the garden are still biting furiously, rain is falling continuously. Still the same in January, except no rain, just brilliant sunshine.

The misplaced vid.

vimeo

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