Walking in the Wood

Some people believe that when we live at the Wood our brains will atrophy and we will have nothing to do except sit around vacuously staring at the view. In fact, there are plenty of things to do, both intellectual and physical.

The physical things are fairly easy to list: collecting wood; sawing logs; ditching; walking around diligently exercising heart and muscle, which is what I did yesterday (pictures below). Today, we opened our pores for an hour and a half, throwing and dragging logs and branches from just up the hill to the wood pile. This has the satisfying effect of tidying the landscape as well as supplying fuel.

Walking in the wood

Indoors, I knit (pictures below of some of the twenty pairs of socks I have knitted this year – not all at the Wood) and do tapestry. Well, all of that is fairly mindless, though it leaves time to think other thoughts, some of which involve planning physical things: the location of more ditches; the delineation of paths (not actually making them, but finding ways of indicating preferred routes, such as by cutting the bracken, or identifying the convenient places to sit, which form markers along the way); where to place trees and other plants.

Socks

My walk yesterday was what I now regard as my favourite short circuit round the upper and middle part of the wood. It takes a fairly direct route to the eastern burn, and then along a prominent ridge parallel to the burn and overlooking it. There is another oak tree on this ridge, and hazels below it beside the burn, where there is a space between the bottom of the ridge and the burn itself which I am sure the Victorians would have turned into a lovely path, with interesting planting. There are plenty of knolls with boulders to sit on, and plenty of places demanding interesting specimens of tree or rhododendron. The ridges of moraine which run down the slope at intervals (usually with boggy bits between them) make for a great variety of views and visual possibilities.

Which leads us on to fencing, when we can afford it.

Ditching also came to the fore this weekend, as Donald Cameron, the ghillie from Kinlochhourn, came to talk about putting his machines to our rather silted up ditch, and to making new drainage in our wasteland, where I disappeared to the tops of my boots a few weekends ago, and had to be rescued by Livy It is always interesting talking to him.

And then the intellectual things. Why should we do less than we do at present? We don’t go to the theatre or concerts much – I don’t know why. We read, we write, we listen to music. Roy reminds me that when the Ellice family had Quoich Lodge (this was in the early years of the last century) they made it a centre of intellectual and cultural life, visited there by artists, writers, statesmen and the lions of their time. There’s a project for us.

Things I Will Have To Put Up With

Not everything is perfect. There are bound to be compromises and oversights. So for the sake of completeness here are the things that are not quite right.

The stairs are rather steep. We have been spoiled by the luxurious ones at Park Street. Janet would say the ones at the Wood are very laid back.

The utility room is very small.

Perhaps more food storage space would have been a good idea: a proper larder.

The Nibe controls require a degree in heat engineering. So far, we find the heat difficult to control. This may be our fault but we think not. Still, Graham Moss the Nibe man is tremendously obliging.

There are skirting boards. Originally, I passionately wanted shadow line skirtings. (My devil master James has them in his house extension; why can't I have them?) Then Mary said skirtings are unnecessary; and I agreed. Now we have skirtings. I am not sure why. Oh well.

Three lights over the table is perhaps too many.

Roy would prefer a joy stick shower control. I am perfectly happy with the taps we have.

Roy wishes there was more light in the bathroom and the small bedroom and slightly less in the main bedroom. I rather like the cosy dim feel of the bathroom. I agree we could have done with one window rather than two in the main bedroom.

The replacement lavatory seats (see earlier top secret posting) are not quite the right shape. We are probably the only people who have noticed this.

We are not quite sure that we specified the right locations for the telephone sockets. There are three (or is it four?) and not one of them is in the main bedroom or the study.

There are some fascinating misplacements of light switches. But we are getting used to them.

The multitude of legs on the canopy is still a little disconcerting. It would have been nice to cantilever it; but that would have meant more steel in the main structure. It would have been nice to manage with fewer.

It is fiddly to open the casement windows fully. But perhaps this will deter all our burglars. It would have been nice if the full length windows would open wide, like doors.

Roy would have liked a wine cellar.

The grey of the doors is not quite the same grey as the blinds.

The deck is not big enough. And it doesn't drain properly. (We are well into crumples in rose leaves territory now.)

Things I like about the house

The observant will have noted, perhaps with faint regret, that I have not posted anything for some months. Now that the house is finished, this blog is beginning to show its redundancy, and banging on about how pretty the wood and the house are may seem boastful and rude. But there are a few concluding comments to make before deciding whether to keep this page alive for other purposes.

The house works very well. (Should I add “so far”? No.) It has few redundant spaces; pretty much all of it is useful, unlike, for example, the hall at Park Street, which as I have already bored some of you by pointing out, is a perfect example of the point Frank Lloyd Wright made about the immorality of certain sorts of house design: making a show for one’s public face whilst consigning the important parts of the house, such as the kitchen, to an actual or metaphorical basement. I am pleased to say that coming more or less straight into the kitchen is a very nice way to enter a house. The big landing is good, too, even though we have not furnished it yet, and so it is not really operating as it is intended to do. The only rooms we do not regularly use ourselves are the spare bedroom (for which guests may be grateful) and the study, the latter because it has no furniture yet. But when the weather gets warmer I mean to keep the study door and the spare bedroom door open, for the views.

The vistas are probably the best thing about the design. You can see all the way through each floor, into every room except the utility room, the study and the upstairs spare loo, when all the doors are open; and when the study door is open you get an immediate view through to the back (or front) of the house as you come in the front (or back) door.

You do hear quite a lot of what is going on in other parts; but when that is music from the sitting room that is rather a good thing (depending on the music). Also, as I type this at the table, I realise that it is convenient for someone quietly doing difficult sums to Mozart in the sitting room to be able to ask the person in the kitchen, without shouting, for a vital cup of coffee, please. Hang on whilst I deal with that.

One more thing about the layout: how like it is to some of the vicarages we have lived in - the study near the front door so that the parishioners can be ushered straight in to see the vicar, and the family's places further in.

Other things I like: the kitchen. Well, it is a stronger emotion than mere liking. The wood; the height of the bench tops; the storage drawers; the lighting; two sinks; the taps; an extractor fan (first time since Poffley End where we had an industrial strength one that blew both ways, because we thought the Aga would like it); the space. I would write an exclamation mark here, if I had not taken a vow against them. And having a separate utility room.

Continuing with the list of the things I like: the sitting room. This means its shelves, though there are not enough of them and the top shelf requires the reach of an ape and the legs of a giraffe; and its windows, though I am not sure if the ones for the piano are quite large enough. It is a good size, too, and our stuff looks nice in it.

More. (As Dornford Yates would say.) The bathroom, loos and shower: their oak shelves, the neat little taps, the monsoon force shower (a combination of water under pressure and a big shower head), the shower seat, cantilevered loos, elegant big tiles.

The oak floors upstairs and the tiled ones downstairs. Nice, plain, and (downstairs) WARM (unless Nibe is away for the time being).

No draughts. I really am tempted to write an exclamation mark here. Even without curtains, and when Nibe was sulking at New Year when the temperature never got above freezing and was mostly rather far below it, the house is not cold. Double glazing, Scandinavian windows and lots of insulation in the walls and roof do the trick.

I could go on, but I won’t. Do come and see for yourselves how it works.

What I did last weekend

1 Jan 2009

Arty pictures

Some panoramic photos

Panoramic Shots

EPW in snow

First: getting there

Travel to EPW in the snow

(travel reports of snow and disruption however the roads were fairly clear all the way to the top of the drive)

EPW in Snow

C&L spent the weekend (well Sat pm and Sun am) at the Wood in the snow.

The house is real...

The next house along the glen (Poulary) is available to let all year round. I've been googling it to see what it says - and noticed on this page that it is now described as being the SECOND house on the left after the cattle grid. Which means that EPW (the first on the left) is real, it exists and has had an impact on others!

More New Year photos

Taken by Ursula

EPW New Year 2009

Happy New Year

New Year at EPW

First house-party. R&C went first (Sunday before New Year), Andrew & I joined them on the 31st, and their friend Ursula turned up at lunch time on the 1st.

The weather was absolutely beautiful. Mostly. The house wasn't exactly warm all over, as the underfloor heating seems to be under the impression that it's 41degreesC outside (hmm - try -10degC instead). However the wood burning stove was most impressive and the thick insulation all over seems to be working. I didn't even have a hot water bottle on the third night. We were quite good at keeping the doors closed and recycling heat back into the Nibe though (e.g. leave bath water to cool down before emptying the bath). And not opening the bathroom window to clear condensation (just let the Nibe extractors suck it out of the air instead).

Trip with a Van

Van trip

Roy & I hired a van for 2 days to transport some bulky items to EPW. There may be 5 people there at New Year, so we needed to sort out a sofa, some mattresses and a table. We picked up a van at 11am on Monday, then went to Ikea to fill it up. There was a slight hiccup, in that the sofa we wanted wasn't in stock, so we had to delay that part of the purchase until 12pm on Tuesday. Anyway, we got everything eventually (including some bunk beds for a friend of mine in St Andrews) and set off at lunchtime to head to EPW. After a brief lunch stop at the Highland Harrods we made it to the Wood just as it got dark. There were about 20 deer lurking outside the house but they made off after staring at us rudely for a bit (I imagine that they were offended at our intruding on their land).

The van was unpacked and the contents dispersed thinly throughout the house. I sorted out the sofa and Roy tackled the table - both of which look very smart (although the table is only an interim one and will ultimately end up being a desk in the study / downstairs bedroom).

We then headed back to St Andrews for the night, to pick up Emily who is staying with R&C in Edinburgh for Christmas, and to drop off the bunk beds with Rebecca. Back in Edinburgh we used the van's capacity to carry a Christmas tree (only £10 when bought on Xmas eve!) and my bike, which had been being serviced, before returning it 30 mins before the rental ran out. Very efficient.

Snowy visit

November at the Wood

Cecilia entreats you to ignore the photos of the loo seat (if she hasn't already deleted them).

Weekend visit

They're off to EPW for the weekend. I DO hope that they've taken some photos / have something to report after this trip.

nudge nudge it's been quite a while since the last update...

More photos from the last trip

Some recent pictures

First night at EPW

First night at EPW

Downstairs

Photos from the Final Meeting

EPW The "Final" Meeting

C will put comments on this evening.

Upstairs

I'll put the downstairs one on this evening.

The Final Meeting (or so they say)

We went to the Wood today for The Final Meeting with Mary and Alasdair (whose name I can now spell). We had a list or two; Mary had an Agenda; and Alasdair had identified a Mystery Flaw which I had certainly not spotted, though maybe the others had.

We discovered that because the road was a provisional sum, we would have to spend another £2000 or so to tarmac the entrance. But we were given Certain Information that we are not at liberty to divulge, and which Janet would kill us for acceding to, so this problem may disappear.

We mystified everyone by our incredibly accurate, logical (Roy) and lawyerly (me) reading of the so-called Acceptance of Completion Certificate. There will be documents to chase, I fear, in order to make all the paperwork line up tidily with our title deeds and the planning permission, which stipulates that certain things never seen in writing before by either Mary or Alasdair will have to be obtained from the planning department once certain other things have been done. Aargh red tape.

We wandered around checking that the paintwork was as we wanted it to be; and Alasdair showed us a narrow strip of sliding door upstairs that had not been painted grey. We saw that the holes for hi-fi wires had been made; and Roy immediately said he would have preferred not to have them. He was throttled. The tiny tiny gap between the north windows of the kitchen is to be plugged with a fillet on the outside. The access track is to have a couple of loads of gravel at the steeper and curvier bits. The Velux blinds are to be obtained and fitted by Alasdair. Mary's assistant Robert is organising the replacement loo lids. Alasdair's chaps will fix some clothes airers in the utility room. We acquired some keys. We agreed that we could manage without the other shelves at the back of the kitchen. And so on and so forth. Essentially, the project is just about complete. But we discussed the next thing: a shed for wood and stuff: next year's project, is we are spared.

We moved various odds and ends in: a kettle, mugs and plates, a coffee pot, one chair. We made the first pot of coffee. It was horribly rainy, so we did not saw up the pile of tree that we had been intending to tame.

It is all a bit of an anti-climax, given the economic climate. Whether we ever live there is moot, it seems; and we are rather gloomy. But Livy took some nice pictures; and it is a lovely place.

Is a Lid a Seat?

This is the lavatory lid story to date.

The lavatories are very pretty: cantileverd, a nice smooth oval, very plain. (The flush mechanism is a little maximalist and curvy; but there is a reason for the large size: it means that plumbers can get at the pipes through the hole left by the flush mechanism when you take it out. The flush mechanism that Mary has in her house is smaller; but hey we have a lower specification. Grr.)

Unfortunately, the lid of the downstairs loo cracked right across when I sat on it to rest my limbs and take a photograph. And it was later discovered that one of the upstairs lids had also broken at an unknown time and by an unknown agency. Anguish. A lid breaking problem in our lovely new house.

I called Ideal Standard and received some of the best customer service I have ever experienced (as I told the woman). I had quite expected to be told that I should Go Away Because Lids Are Not Seats.The story is, apparently, that they have had problems with some but not all of these particular lids. It is a Tremendous Secret; and they have gone so far as to bring in a university to investigate the problem. (Line of exclamation marks.) This is, it seems, the absolute final last ditch solution to problems with lids.

When supplied with the address of the house, the names of the builder and the supplier of the loos, the invoices, our mothers' maiden names and so on, Ideal Standard will issue us with a magic number the effect of which is that we will have free replacement lids for ever and ever.

Mary's assistant Robert is dealing with it all. So far we are not aware of any glitch having intervened.

Nearly at Practical Completion, we think

Just a handful of pictures from last Tuesday. It seemed that nothing else had been done since our last visit; though there are still some matters to clear up - the holes for wires down the backs of the shelves, squeezing the washing machine and the fridge freezer into their tiny spaces, fitting the Velux blinds, replacing TWO broken loo lids, tarmacking the entrance to the drive. The whole place is rather dusty and full of sawdust, waiting for the cleaners; but it could pretty much be lived in now.

The Wood

On Thursday we met Graham Moss there, the heat pump man; and he programmed the Nibe timer for us and began to explain how it is all controlled. We have sheaves of instruction manuals and he is expecting us to call him for explanations when we are in residence.

We need a working party to help saw logs. Any offers?

Nearly finished, perhaps.

The Wood, 11 August 2008

We have been to the house twice in the past week: Monday and Friday, on the way to and from Runival. The photos which I think I will be embedding are of the first visit. A pity, now I come to think of it, as there had been some changes, as one might have expected, between the two visits.

On the first visit the electricians were in, along with Alistair's brother Donald, who is his site manager, I think. Donald is quite sure that the shelves under the back window in the kitchen were cancelled. Not by us, but we may just live without them. We rather improperly (such things are meant to come from the architect) confirmed that we would prefer white sockets in the shelves at the back of the island, rather than the metal ones which were originally planned to go into the wood at the ends, which we thought was too lovely to cut into. We mentioned the hole needed to take the wires down from the hi-fi shelves. (Still not done by Friday but it is a small thing.) We were a little surprised at how far the little round lights on the stairs stick out; but by Friday we were used to them. This is a psychological phenomenon.

I broke the lid of the downstairs lavatory by sitting on it. Bad lady.

By Friday, the wood tops to the shelves behind the loo and the bath in the bathroom had been fitted, and very handsome they look.

The grey doors, for which Max is taking ALL the credit, and let's humour him, are just the thing and I am prepared to bet that Mary will like them too and we may see them in other Dualchas houses.

Perhaps the most noticeable change is outside, where all the crisp packets, odd lumps, bits of plastic and crisp packets have been buried in gravel. It is not quite as I had envisaged it on the south side, but it does look smart. Some top peat, if I may call it that, has been moved from other parts of the site to around the house. It will need to be redistributed a bit; but it is an improvement. I was very pleased to see that many of the raw bits beside the track and where the original abortive track was tried, have greened up very well.

The well head has been buried, which I think is a pity, though it will save on the cost of building a lovely stone pyramid or other allegresse.

I have taken some videos, at Diana's suggestion; but as Livy is in Seth Efrica I can't upload them.