Not seeing the wood for the obstacles

I missed writing a blog post last week because I didn't feel I had anything of interest to write about. Then, when I was chatting to a visiting friend this afternoon, I realised I was in the same position. 

"All I've been doing is replacing all the wooden planks on my sunroom wall," I told her. "That doesn't really make for interesting blog posts."

But then I got to thinking. Why not write about it? That's my challenge, surely? It's actually been quite a project, so worth a mention even if it isn't about boats. However, on that subject, Koos has been just as busy expanding the loo on the Hennie H; also not a particularly glamorous project, but it's involved quite a bit of problem solving with which I've assisted – or maybe hindered. I haven't dared to ask. But I have at least done some painting of its new walls.

Anyway, back to my sunroom planks. They're not thick and they're not short and there are lots more than two of them, so hopefully there'll be no comments on that front. Still, I have to admit to being a bit daunted to begin with and was very much hoping I could find someone to do it for me. Well, I did; at least I thought I did. The only problem was that said klus man (odd job man) gave me a quote, took my deposit and then promptly went bankrupt, leaving me with no option but to try and do it myself since he'd had half the money I'd put by for the job. I couldn't grumble too much, though. He left several others a lot worse off than me. 

After this blow, it took me several months to gather my courage and get started, an initiative eventually prompted by the fact the wooden cladding was visibly rotten and was threatening to fall off the wall if I didn't pull it off first. So I forced myself into action by ripping out all the rotten, splitting and peeling planks in the space of a couple of hours one afternoon. Apart from the four right at the top, which just needed some serious sanding and re-varnishing, everything else was quickly and easily removed; indeed, some of the planks at the bottom of the wall simply gave up and disintegrated the moment I touched them. It all made sense of my term of endearment for the house being the crumbly cottage.

Then came the fun of trying to find planks of the same type and dimensions. I never realised how difficult it would be. Wood. Good old overlapping rebate planks (I hope that's what they're called, because they aren't tongue and groove despite doing the same thing) were not easy to come by in the dimensions I wanted. Our local hardware didn't have them at all; the nearby DIY superstore didn't either; its equivalent over the border in Belgium offered them but only via the webshop and I couldn't order with my Dutch address. Who would have thought ordering a few planks would be such a time-consuming mission? Luckily, my Taurean persistence (some might say obstinacy) prevailed and I managed to order them from another supplier in Breda (100 kms/60 miles away) who were willing to deliver them for less than the cost of my petrol there and back. At last a good result.

Now, while I was involved in all these preparatory activities, the weather was dry, sunny and cool. Perfect for construction. But my friend Murphy's always lurking somewhere in the wings. The day the planks arrived and I was ready to get going, he decided to start turning the knobs on the temperature controls – up. 

I spent two days seeking shady places to put my trestles so I could treat both sides of the planks with what we call beits here. It's not just stain and it's not really varnish. In fact, it's coloured sealant that feeds the wood and protects it at the same time, and it's not supposed to be applied in the sun. Anyhow, as I worked away, Murphy was enjoying himself too and the temperature crept up and up, so by the time I was ready to start fitting the planks over the new insulation I'd added to the sunroom, we were up to 29C in the shade. Lord knows what it was in the sun, which (predictably) is where I was and still am working. Yesterday, we had 32C and today is likely to be the same, so I'll end this post here and get back at it before I turn the same colour as my new pine cladding. 

The halfway mark

Down to the ground, waiting for the
finishing trespa piece

I still have plenty to do, as the small section to the right of the door needs to be done and a section next to the sliding doors at the front, but the worst is over. 

We tend to be quite private about our crumbly cottage and where exactly it is. Mostly, I only show bits and pieces of it, but I love this painting my daughter did of the back of the house, so to finish with, I thought I'd show you. It has a stylised look that I like very much. The sunroom (serre here) is the the structure behind the ivy wall.

Have a good week allemaal and next week I'll show you the finished loo on the Hennie H. I bet you can't wait 😆