It was bound to happen. When renovating an old house, surprises (usually of the nasty variety) are sure to come. That we've managed to get this far without discovering rotting floorboards, sagging foundations, and extensive borer is in itself miraculous. That we thought we would get to the end without any surprises, was totally naive.
Everything was going well this past week. The plasterers came and started doing their part, the new doors went up in the back entrance (okay, they did order the wrong doors for the wardrobe but that was their mistake this time and not ours), and it looked as if we were going to get our veranda restored to its former glory.
Enter the council who deemed it necessary to rebuild said veranda. It doesn't seem to matter that the veranda has withstood the ravages of time since the house was built ninety-eight years ago: the council says it has to have all new foundations, bearers and decking and we can do nothing but comply. That this will push out the date of completion (and thus the installation of my new kitchen) goes without saying.
On the other hand, we now have a better idea of what our house will look like with its veranda. And even though there's no decking, we did manage to sit out there this morning and enjoy our morning tea. We wasted no time however in deciding that we will not be using any of the original colours that the house was painted in.
Meanwhile I am thrilled with the outlook I now have through my new French doors.
It will be even better when I can stand in my kitchen and look out through those doors!
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