The Exploding Tiler

I hope you will indulge me if I share with you a piece of Kipling (the writer, not the baker) because I think it sums up this weekend pretty well …

“If you can dream, and not make dreams you master,
If you can think, and not make thoughts your aim,
If you can meet with triumph and disaster
And treat those two impostors just the same”

It’s a bit like those credit card adverts with the clever/ dumb balance - there must be a house somewhere that seems to have goods and tradesmen magically appear at their door, because they certainly don't at FTC.

I won’t go on about it, but we’re now waiting for our 4th plate rack to be delivered from MFI and as Keith has finally joined me in the land of unremitting MFI hatred, he has now taken over phoning them for a futile, but satisfying, daily rant. As you can see from the photos, we do have half a (warped) rack up now, and since this is the only thing left to do in the kitchen, we’re hopeful for a Christmas 2007 finish.

Anyway, back to the clever/ dumb balance. There were a few key lessons learned this weekend:

1. Tasha is bad at maths. Tasha is especially bad at working out the difference between linear and square meterage when it comes to tiles. When Tasha tries to calculate the number of tiles required, the net result is that both the expensive one off tiles and the cheaper plain tiles come up half a wall short. Luckily, Tasha is also stubborn and somehow managed to find some extra plain tiles and redesign the layout so that the tiler wouldn’t have to be rebooked for a 3rd time.

2. Tilers are not electricians. When a tiler comes to make your kitchen look beautiful, no not offer to turn the electricity off, simply wait until the tiler has stuck a screw-driver into the “certified safe” plug socket and allow him to blow the fuses instead. This way, you can enjoy the blood curdling moment when the fuse cabinet lights up like a Christmas tree, but the TV carries on running. Then, after about 10 seconds of “WTF just happened” running through your head you can run into the kitchen to see a very melted screwdriver and a tiler clutching a very sore hand. Fun for all the family!!

3. Men, if allowed to occupy themselves, will come up with 101 inventive ways to waste their time. They will suddenly decide that cutting holes in ceilings and installing speakers, amps and CD players in a garage is the most important thing they will ever accomplish. They will also trample the fallout from said hole cutting into the house and then, a cup of tea the braver, wander back out to think of more essential tasks leaving you chasing the hound around to get some ill gotten insulation out of his mouth.

4. Hounds love flapjacks. They especially love the baked on oatie goodness of the baking tray and will growl menacingly at anyone who comes within a mile of them while in possession of crispy bits. They also love those flapjacks reserved for the hooman beans of the family and will whine endlessly for the chance to get their slobbery chops on a slice. Failing that they will lie under whoever is eating a slice of flapjack with their heads tilted back 90o in a very selfless way to prevent any unwanted crumbs sullying the carpet.

All dramas aside though, there were a few important events this weekend that I would really like to commemorate:

Friday was Rach’s going away party as she flies out for 10 months of adventure. We’re going to miss you lady, please come back safe and sound

Friday also saw the birth of Calandra Miah Appleton to Chris (Pillock) and Claire. She was born with minimal fuss (according to a slightly bemused Chris) weighing in at a bonny 8lb 7.5oz. Congratulation to you all, hopefully we’ll see you soon to celebrate properly!!!