December: DIY SOS

 

Hi, Nice to meet you. I’m Ryan. I’ll be taking you on the tour today. Come in. Look behind and you’ll see our front door. I was tasked with touching up the white paint on it, but I put so much paint on that its makeup is running. Come through into the kitchen. Yes, that panel there hasn’t been re-attached. Why’s that? I don’t know how to.  Would you follow me upstairs? Sorry, I’ll help you past the stairgate. Yes, it is misaligned. I did that with my wife whilst our little one was sleeping. She said, “I’m going to tighten this now, so you need to make sure we’re straight before I turn this.” I wanted to go and watch the tele, so I nodded my head. Yes, I appreciate it’s the first thing you see in the house. Don’t see it as unsightly, see it as a quirk.

We’re now on the second floor. This is the study. Those medals that hang from the screws do seem out of place don’t they? That’s because I drilled some holes in the wall to show I could; I then decided to put up a floating shelf to show I could put up a shelf (no, we didn’t really need one); however, I miscalculated and the shelf didn’t fit. The medals are only there to mask a mistake. Would you like to come up to the master bedroom? Here’s the en-suite bathroom. Yes, the toilet handle does appear quite peculiar. You’re right: the handle is too high. I went to the plumbing store with the original and was given the best possible substitute. For some reason it didn’t install properly so instead of hanging to the right it hangs to the left. The experience of flushing a toilet is akin to pulling a crank in a Victorian jail cell.

The worrying thing is I’ve actually improved at DIY.

As a child I wasn’t interested in all at practical subjects. I had no aptitude for science. I wasn’t a moth to a flame when it came to Bunsen burners; I, like any reasonable person, feared fire and wanted little to do with it. Also, I was terrible at woodwork. I remember coming home with a letter rack that couldn’t stand up straight. Every time my mum tried to right it, it would crash to the ground like an inebriate and refuse to get up. I didn’t sign up to do Duke of Edinburgh: my excuse to mum and dad was it was because as a republican I couldn’t accept commendation from the monarchy; the reality being I was embarrassed by my practical inability.

At home I didn’t play apprentice to my dad, offering him zero help when it came to jobs around the house. When it came to assembling and repairing, my dad was very talented; clearly, this skipped a generation. I now look wistfully at Kit playing with DUPLO, thinking in a years’ time he’ll able to do the jobs I can’t do: lay a brick wall, construct a pergola, convert the loft. I’ll pay the lad in milk and cuddles, put an extra present in his stocking, see that he’s suitably remunerated.

Moving into a house of our own, I tried to improve my DIY skills by enrolling on a course. About five years ago I went to South London for a weekend course, titled ‘Beginners DIY.’ We were taught how to drill, paint, wire a plug, change a washer, saw safely into wood. I got a certificate but only because there wasn’t a test. When it came to wiring a plug, I was as ham-fisted as a teenage boy encountering a bra for the first time. In the end I gave my plug to another student when the teacher wasn’t looking. The paint job was patchy; the drilling wasn’t clean: I was least improved.

For years I’ve hidden behind the talents of my dad and my wife. If there needed a job doing, my dad would often come by; or if something needed putting together, then the woman leads in our household. With my dad passed, I now feel that I need to improve and in a small way I have. The drill my father-in-law bought me has been used correctly with pictures hanging properly on the wall. However, if you read that opening paragraph you’ll appreciate that mistakes have been made: it’s only a level of self-awareness, a consciousness of my own limited ability, that has prevented a visit from Nick Knowles and the team.

So what am I going to do? I’m going to DIY. The mistakes I’ve made are because I’ve done things in a rush without concentrating. The reason I haven’t got better is because I let other people do the hard work whilst I just stand and assist. To improve I need a project that is going to involve following instructions and basic assembly. I can then gain the confidence to move onto something advanced.

I’m going to build a kitchen.

Don’t worry I’m not making kitchen tops and wiring in the cooker. I’m making Kit’s kitchen. It’s his Christmas present. I will read the instructions, get angry with the instructions, make a mistake with the instructions, re-read the instructions, make progress with the instructions and eventually fulfill them. On Christmas Day he will have a present I’ve made. 

I’ll leave the paintwork to Harriet though.