I don’t know if Graham Greene, Evelyn Waugh or even Michel de Montaigne ever renovated a building – well, Mr. Montaigne did pay a local craftsman to carve his favourite aphorisms into the beams of his study sometime around 1570, they are still there today – but if one of them did I like to think it would have been a chaotic mess. Because at the moment I need to think that even the people I admire for perfectly arranging simple words into simple sentences would get it wrong when it comes to choosing the windows, the floor, the decking, the HVAC, the trim, the insulation, and just how white the whiteness of the white paint is.
The person at the local builders merchants I’ve been talking to this week about windows and doors told me today, after I pointed out a discrepancy in his sizes and costs, that actually they were all wrong and he would have to recalculate – upwards of course. I was trying to be decent by using a small local company rather than one of the faceless conglomerates, but it’s difficult to shake the feeling that if the windows arrive with just one small detail wrong I’d be kicking myself until I ended up in Montana.
No comments:
Post a Comment