shower – derrickjknight

A Knight’s Tale (117: Fumigation)

Some time in the 1990s a neighbour of mine reported having seen a squirrel, probably one of a number, entering our loft. He offered to provide me with a trap. The following morning, against the trunk of one of our trees, I found a large metal cage with a strong latticed grill beside a bucket of water, a hammer, and a pair of strong leather gauntlets. Inside the cage a frantic creature with a bloodied nose repeatedly threw itself at the sides of the container.

No way could I carry out the obviously intended process. I rapidly unlocked the door of the cage, backed away, and watched the animal disappear into the shrubbery. My neighbour was most disappointed when I explained my inability to commit murder.

Some years later, when Louisa and I were still living in Lindum House, and I was down in London working for a couple of days, she telephoned me to say there was something wrong with the shower water. It had a disgusting smell. I said I would sort it out when I got home. Thinking that my daughter (although that was never her wont) may have been being a bit fussy, I climbed into the shower cubicle to sample it…… No way was I going to shower in that! I instantly recognised the most unsavoury stench as that of a dead rodent. Before Louisa had existed we’d discovered a dead rat in our Soho flat and that smell, once experienced, is never forgotten.

I ventured into the loft and, sure enough, floating in the albeit securely covered water tank, were the putrid remains of an adventurous squirrel. How it got in there is a mystery. Removal of the corpse was an extremely delicate task. Imagine trying to scoop up a furry jelly which hasn’t properly set.

Having drained the tank several times the water was still nauseous. Knowing that Matthew would be able to advise on the problem I telephoned him. He suggested a trip to the local swimming baths – not for a shower, but for a solution. I just had time to get there before they closed, and a very kind young man, at some risk, he assured me, to his job, provided me with a bag of stuff. This was to be applied to the water and subsequently drained off. I needed to do this three times before either of us dared contemplate a shower. I hope the young man has risen up the ranks.

In 2008 I was living in a rented three story house in Bayswater’s Leinster Mews when such a malodorous hum next beset my nostrils. This was thought to be the scent of a rodent which had met its demise in one of the walls. The estate agent organised fumigation, but the stink lingered, and I was forced to see my clients on the flat roof at the top of the building.

They say that if you live in London you are never more than a metre from a rat.

Starting Inside

Today was wet, much warmer, and overcast. This morning I cleared up clippings and fallen branches.

I have more than once observed that, after our first month in Downton, the inside of the house has been neglected for the garden.

Certain items, like the toilet seats, the shower hanging loose in the guest bathroom, its blocked sink, and its quirkily arranged ineffective door lock, required immediate attention.

There was neither screen nor curtain for the said shower. In our search for a screen, we decided we had to have a new P bath to match it. This meant retiling. That is the task that Mike, of Perfect Plastering, carried out last week.. We were then left with the doddery daubing on the walls and a floor covered with just about the worst possible colour for a room containing a receptacle for human excreta. Mind you, judging by the state of the toilet seat I removed, there was probably a method in the madness.

You can’t have a nice new bath and tiles without redecorating. And it is getting too unpleasant for Aaron to work outside. So, he will begin by decorating this room. To this end, this afternoon, Jackie and I bought paint from Brewers in New Milton.

Afterwards I entered the Oval Path and Elizabeth’s Bed section into the garden album, and printed up the South End set of photographs.

We enjoyed second helpings of the Happy Wok takeaway meal for our dinner this evening. Jackie drank Hoegaarden and I finished the Bardolino.

From Germicide To Insecticide

I was able to chuck my sling this morning and have a shower. As it is imperative to keep the dressing dry, this required the ingenuity and expertise of my resident former professional carer of elderly people. Yes, my head gardener, chauffeuse, and cordon bleu cook, also has that string to her bow. Women are, of course, the experts in multi-tasking.

I scratched my head over plastic bags which had holes in them, as I tried to find suitable waterproofing material. Jackie suggested cling film. It wouldn’t stick to the crepe bandage. Refraining from even the slightest of withering looks, my carer explained that ‘It doesn’t need to. I sticks to itself’, as she unrolled a new length and fitted it. No wonder the tangled mass I had been trying to apply had repulsed my efforts to smooth it out.

As can be seen from the photograph, I had two fairly free fingers and a thumb. The other two digits are incased in what I assume to be plaster. It’s rigid enough. I wondered whether the term ‘pinkies’ for fingers had come from the colour of the germicide with which my hand and forearm have been pigmented.

There are many tasks, I have discovered over the last few days, which really do require the use of two hands. Grappling with the application of shampoo from a tube will provide one example. Normally, I would use the right hand to squeeze out the solution onto my open left palm, then rub my hands together and massage it into my hair. At least, I imagine that’s what I do. We take these things so much for granted that we don’t even think about them. My left thumb, still aching, and forefinger were not quite up to the job, and required some right-handed assistance. The creamy substance emerged very slowly, and my receiving palm was not exactly horizontal. Applying enough for the hair wash before it slid off my almost vertical mitt, and splatting it onto my head required a nifty manoeuvre.

This afternoon I wandered around the garden inspecting Jackie’s work. I’ve never really studied laurels before, but one app§ears to be flowering. I shall watch it with interest. I was getting on quite well typing with one hand, but now I am attempting to use one and a half, that symbol that appears in the middle of appears crops up all over the place. I suspect the outstretched plaster keeps hitting the key.

We have two mosquito larvae incubating tanks, one at each end of the garden. Well, they are small cisterns, but rather meant for their beautiful wat§e§r (I think I’ll leave in a few of these §s so you can s§ee the size of the problem – numerals 1 and 2 also keep intruding but I’ll spare you those or this will get silly) lilies. Since the nasty bloodsucking adults home in on Jackie she has spent much of the day cleaning out the pools and unclogging the lily roots. This has involved treating the water with insecticide. Before she had finished she received her first bite of the year.

The first picture shows the first tank’s clump of lilies, the second the treated clean water, and the third the§ completed job.

She needs a bit of help to extract the lilies she has dragged to the edge of the second container. Perhaps I will be able to oblige tomorrow.

This evening we dined on Jackie’s classic chilli con carne (recipe) and tasty savoury rice (recipe), with which she drank Hoegaarden and I relished Via Cavallo chianti 2013.

The Carpet

Jackie has been having difficulty obtaining a correct Tesco Clubcard. Twice she has clearly spelt out KNIGHT on the telephone. She has received two cards now, the second one, this morning, having at least an N where an M was originally given. She has another phone call to make.

Having seen a sign indicating a path to the beach on my last walk through Shorefield Country Park, I walked that way again this bright, windswept, morning, turning right at Dane Road. I was at the cliff top, from which I could see the Isle of Wight and The Needles, in half an hour.

Shorefield has a Sunrise Bushcraft education project, the hoarding for which I passed on my way. (This picture seemed to have been lost altogether, but I found it on Google’s page for the project – as I did the two Tesco club cards. So many sites bear my photographs that I might try this again – 3rd April 2023).

Taking a walk along the shingle, I conversed with a couple of intrepid fishermen who needed to keep a low profile from the gusts coming of the choppy sea.

The usual groups of adults and children enjoyed themselves at the water’s edge. One child lost a balloon which rapidly disappeared back up and over the cliff.

I took a shorter route back home, through the rookery, where vociferous and voracious chicks now kept two parents busy, and magpies were, in no uncertain terms, informed that their presence was not required.
Our son Matthew, and his wife Tess, brought us lunch and stayed for the afternoon.

Mat, a true professional spent a couple of hours laying a carpet, which Michael had given us, in the garage library, which is now a garage/library/laundry room. This was a magnificent effort involving moving heavy boxes of books backwards and forwards across the room as the floor covering, including underlay, was unravelled. I wasn’t much help.
The carpet had been sent down from Graham Road with our furniture by Michael. It was a well-nigh perfect fit.
Yesterday’s second application of Bullitt to the shower plug hole had proved no more successful than the first. Not content with his work in the library, Mat then took a flexible rod to the shower, and, we think, cleared it.
Finally, a very full day was rounded off by a visit from sisters Jacqueline and Elizabeth who arrived in time to chat for a while with Mat and Tess, who then went on to visit Becky, Flo, and Ian.
The rest of us dined at The Royal Oak, where we enjoyed our usual warm welcome and attentive service.

‘Didn’t You Know Grandpa Was Jesus?’

Until now, I have spared my readers photographs of the more rancid receptacles in our fun-filled adventure. Everything, in fact, but the kitchen sink. Having scoured the sink itself on numerous occasions, but being slightly perturbed by the unpleasant aromas emanating from the plug holes, Jackie decided to dismantle them and investigate. She was to regret it, but made a good job of speeding the water’s descent to the septic tank in the garden.
The tray at the bottom of the good quality shower in our en suite bathroom fills to paddling level during a shower. The water takes some considerable time to soak away and leaves a slippery scum. I hesitate to think what might be impeding its passage.
Given that it is Easter Sunday, and that we had Becky and Flo with us, number 50, the next picture in the ‘through the ages’ series, is serendipitous. The photograph of my daughter and me was taken by Jessica in no. 2 Horse & Dolphin Yard in July 1974. I have mentioned before that I have given each of my children stacks of albums of their childhood photographs. A print of this one is in Becky’s collection.
Some time during Jackie and my years apart, Becky was showing her mother the albums. On reaching this picture Jackie expressed a certain surprise at my appearance. ‘Didn’t you know Grandpa was Jesus?’ piped up our granddaughter.
I make no claim to deity, and have no wish to be sacrilegious, but think the story worth telling.
Rendering yesterday’s watering of plants in pots unnecessary, we experienced steady rain all day today. These epimedium leaves are probably feeling refreshed by it.
Becky and Ian came for the evening, to stay over, and to take Flo home tomorrow. Cooking a full roast dinner for the first time in her new, confusing, kitchen this evening, Jackie produced as tender lamb and as crisp vegetables, including roast potatoes and parsnips, as ever. We all five enjoyed it. Jackie and Ian drank Hoegaarden whilst I imbibed Campo de Borja Caliente Rojo 2012.