My photo album reminds me that on this day, six years ago, our home was ransacked by intruders, who turned our house upside-down in search of all that Asian Gold they couldn’t find because, um, we don’t have any, because, um again, we’re not Asian, and the only things we have of any value to …
My wife wants a new patio, and a veranda too. “You can do it,” she says to me, “I believe in you.” Indeed I could, but that doesn’t mean it would be any good, or any better that what it will replace. Want a rustic patio? I’m your man. Otherwise, this is a job for …
It wouldn’t be the weekend without some kind of flat pack furniture to put together.
Remind me not to embark on emergency DIY repairs when I’m ill. All we’ll achieve is lots of swearing and an almighty cockup.
“Envy in the heart, it consumes.” These words pop into my head on my return from dropping our lad off at school across town. These the words with which I respond to the self-reproach within as I pass the nice houses, each with two nice cars on the drive. Momentarily, my regret stings. But soon …
One thing always leads to another. I only went in the garage to find some bags with which to take the garden rubbish to the tip. But before I know it, I’ve sorted out the garage, too. So now it’s off to the tip with all that extra junk on top.
When we have no money, we make mistakes. Or compromises we wouldn’t make if we had better means. Nearly twenty years ago, we bought the cheapest house we could find within commuting distance of London. Though fine for raising a family, it could never be described as a sound investment, for it remains one of …
Found so far: Three floppy disks containing backups of old writing. My Istanbul wedding on VHS. Eight Video 8 cassettes. Two Minidiscs. My depressing school reports. A portfolio of design work spanning twenty years. The charger for a 2003 Dell Latitude C400. Annual accounts for one failed business. An oboe and set of sheet music, …
Where is home? If people ask me where I am from, I will invariably respond, Hull, despite having not lived there for twenty-five years. By now, I have lived the greater part of my life elsewhere, but it was in its proximity that I was born and raised. In our mind’s eye, it becomes home …
Unfortunately, there’s nothing new about landlords not taking the problem of damp and mould seriously. In fact, the problem is widespread. In the early 2000s, we rented a flat from a housing association in west London. It was a tiny one-bedroom flat — one of several located in the roof of a converted old Victorian …
