Wednesday, 6 July 2011

Arsenic, old lead and a ceilidh.

Today is going to be one of those days, I can feel it in my waters, as my Grannie would have said.

A team of people are coming up to the farmhouse as there is something strange happening to the walls.
The (unmended) roof has leaked so much that the water is pouring inside the house, causing the paint to fall off in the kichen/ hall/ pantry areas. This has exposed the original paint which has gone fluffy and smells so disgusting that it is actually productively nauseating. Sorry if that is too much information.

The original paint is a dull green and was a popular choice in the early 1900s. It is exotically called 'Paris Green', invoking images of gentile Parisians in parks or 'Dejeuner sur la herbe' (Yes, French was never a strong point at school).

In truth, this popular paint contains lead and arsenic. Harmless, I am told, unless it becomes damp and then it releases a gas which is not harmless, I am told.

The smell can only be described as a mixture of damp mouse nest and ransomes; a form of wild garlic, with a thump of an aftersmell which is so acrid that it causes instant gagging.
The children and Pie are forbidden to go into the house.

We have moved into a caravan, a lovely caravan which had wooden floors. Had being the operative word. The Farmer did the plumbing and one pipe came off- of course, of all the pipes to come off, it had to be the one which brought water in so the entire place was under inches of water.

An industrial vacuum was brought in and the water was sucked away as best as. Oh well, at least it is not dusty any more.

A *proper* plumber is coming up this afternoon to put a *proper* pipe in. Not a piece of hosepipe held on with a jubilee clip......

The Farmer will miss all the action today as he will be at cardiac rehabilitation.

Today, it will just be the children, Piedog and I, a Health and Safety team, a contamination person, a plumber and a damp caravan so a ceilidh as they say in the Highlands. A ceilidh in its truest sense; a meeting of people, a strupach of tea, maybe even a scone.

It will be nice to have folk in but something tells me the tea and scones will be tactfully declined.


  1. I am so filled with admiration that you can find something amusing and write a damn good blog post about the trials that life sends you at the moment.

    Hope the ceilidh goes well and the Farmer's appointment is a good one. Hopefully see you in the next couple of weeks, if you have time.

  2. Well, I wouldn't decline your tea and scones. I do hope everything is sorted out sooner rather than later. I've lived in my share of leaky houses (oh, the joy of piling everyone back in the car and dashing back to get the buckets out when it rains) but nothing like yours.

  3. Lots of tea and scones and lots of time.

    Lots of leaky bits in the roof as well after the terrible rain.

    It will be lovely to see you MmeLindor and I am really looking forward to it.

  4. Otter, as they say round here, 'you're a whole good one'. I think you deserve a drop of something stronger at your ceilidh