Following on from the dream in which my living room was getting drenched by leaking water, I had a very appropriate dream about getting a new boiler fitted in my flat. It was just over a week ago that I had someone in to look things over and provide me with an estimate, since I no longer feel that I can trust my existing model and I'm pretty sure winter is going to start setting in sometime soon.
The quote came with two different boiler options - let's just call them 'expensive' and 'not so expensive', since the difference in final costing was 'only' a couple of hundred quid - and there doesn't seem to be much to choose between them according to the specs. The estimate also includes thermostatic valves and, because I quite like the idea of warm towels, a plumbed in towel rail in the bathroom.
It's worth noting at this point that I mentioned to the guy who did the estimate that I was interested in an electric towel rail, but he recommended plumbing one in with the new boiler as it would be more cost-effective, especially with the addition of the thermostatic valves. I figure he knows his stuff (a certain family member is in the building trade and uses these people for all his installations) and, since I most certainly do not know my stuff when it comes to boilers and central heating, I accepted his assessment.
On the upside, a friend of mine warned me that British Gas required her to buy an entirely new set of radiators when they fitted a new boiler, so switching between isolated electric and plumbed in for the bathroom radiator is hardly a big deal.
So, having gone through all that, and received an estimate that's significantly higher than a ballpark estimate suggested by an engineer - in all fairness, he said it was very ballpark, and I hadn't discussed things like thermostatic valves or the new radiator with him - it's probably no surprise that my already somewhat heightened state of home anxiety turned it all into a very specific dream.
It seemed to start towards the end of the installation, when the boiler was being switched on... and it didn't work. At all. One thing I noted almost immediately after waking up was that the geography of the room was not that of my kitchen, where the boiler actually resides. Nor was it the bathroom, nor the bedroom, nor even the lounge. The size and arrangement of the room actually reminded me more of the back bedroom in my parents' home, where their boiler/immersion heater thing lives, hidden away in the airing cupboard.
Now, bear with me, because this is where it gets weird...
A brief investigation of my not-kitchen in the dream uncovered... an immersion heater hidden away inside a shadowy junk pile behind the wall. Referring back to the geography of the back bedroom at my folks' place, this area would actually be the cupboard/wardrobe which, for many years, has basically been a shadowy junk pile where all fear to go. It's only recently been turned over so that a few important things could be retrieved, and it's currently back to being blocked off by... a shadowy junk pile.
But back to the dream. The engineer told me there was no way that model of boiler would work with the immersion heater, so they simply pulled it off the wall (because, y'know, that sort of thing is perfectly plausible with a fully plumbed-in boiler in a dream) and left, promising to return with another model of boiler which would.
So, naturally, the first thing I did the following day was phone the boiler people and book myself in for the proposed 'not so expensive' option, with my ever-generous parents are assisting with the bill.
I've struggled to get anything else of any significance done... I've started a couple sketches, but they aren't getting anywhere at the moment, and my efforts toward tidying the lounge were quickly foiled by my habit of shuffling things around and then leaving them on the sofa. Or the coffee table. Or the floor. I'm 'equal opportunities' like that.
That said, on a complete whim this afternoon, I decided to move things around in my bedroom. There were obvious benefits - making it easier to place containers under the areas affected by the leaking roof, making more space at the foot of the bed and increasing the light in the room - and it didn't take very long. I did regret moving things 'out of the way' and thereby blocking my access to the vacuum cleaner, because it seems an awful lot of dust can collect under/inside a chest of drawers. For a few moments, while I was moving things, I had a sneaking suspicion things wouldn't be much better but, now I've done it, it seems to be a huge improvement. Still some way to go before it's all sorted, and what I've actually done is create space to eventually place additional furniture in there, but it was certainly worth doing sooner rather than later.
Ain't it nice when a whim pays off?
Friday, 27 September 2013
Wednesday, 25 September 2013
A Fictionalised Account
It's rather disturbing when a dream takes a real life unpleasant situation and then cranks it up to 11.
For example, the leak into my flat is bad enough without dreaming about water streaming down the walls in my lounge (so far unaffected by water damage in real life, but possibly showing signs of damp) and getting dangerously close to the power sockets. I was also struggling with a clearly failing computer, physically identical to my real machine in every way, including all the clutter around it, while the real thing is becoming a little glitchy, possibly due to an upgrade in the antivirus software (the beginnings of the glitchiness coincided with the upgrade, and the glitchiness is limited to internet access speed, particularly when using multiple tabs).
Making matters all the more fun, while I don't normally suffer 'sequel dreams' after waking up in the middle of the night, I had a very direct follow-up in the form of dreaming about my remodelled bathroom springing a very dramatic leak (on a bright, sunny day, no less... though this part of the narrative is unreliable because a window placed where that one was would actually only show through to my kitchen) which caused the new ceiling tiles to collapse. Strangely, these 'ceiling tiles' were actually the insulation tiles we put down on my floors in the hall and bedroom, before laying the wood floor panelling. Not exactly suitable for ceilings, not least because they'd be very susceptible to water damage.
There was also - continuing the theme of weird takes on reality - a bit about the upcoming Metallica movie... I seem to recall the band deliberately started their gig in a weird sort of acoustic/'unplugged' form with very simple lighting, before the frontman called a halt to proceedings and suggested they start again... However, rather than actually starting again properly, the whole band just started larking about on stage. The frontman did a long slide down a slippery track (visual metaphor?) to a separate stage within a section of the audience made up largely of pre-teen kids who wanted to know (a) why he was there and (b) when Metallica would actually start playing.
I really don't know where that one came from... but the water damage dreams could have come from being a little feverish overnight. Not for the first time this week, I woke up in a rather soggy, sweaty bed. I've had a few minor cold symptoms lately, but it'd probably be wise to start taking preventative cold medication.
For example, the leak into my flat is bad enough without dreaming about water streaming down the walls in my lounge (so far unaffected by water damage in real life, but possibly showing signs of damp) and getting dangerously close to the power sockets. I was also struggling with a clearly failing computer, physically identical to my real machine in every way, including all the clutter around it, while the real thing is becoming a little glitchy, possibly due to an upgrade in the antivirus software (the beginnings of the glitchiness coincided with the upgrade, and the glitchiness is limited to internet access speed, particularly when using multiple tabs).
Making matters all the more fun, while I don't normally suffer 'sequel dreams' after waking up in the middle of the night, I had a very direct follow-up in the form of dreaming about my remodelled bathroom springing a very dramatic leak (on a bright, sunny day, no less... though this part of the narrative is unreliable because a window placed where that one was would actually only show through to my kitchen) which caused the new ceiling tiles to collapse. Strangely, these 'ceiling tiles' were actually the insulation tiles we put down on my floors in the hall and bedroom, before laying the wood floor panelling. Not exactly suitable for ceilings, not least because they'd be very susceptible to water damage.
There was also - continuing the theme of weird takes on reality - a bit about the upcoming Metallica movie... I seem to recall the band deliberately started their gig in a weird sort of acoustic/'unplugged' form with very simple lighting, before the frontman called a halt to proceedings and suggested they start again... However, rather than actually starting again properly, the whole band just started larking about on stage. The frontman did a long slide down a slippery track (visual metaphor?) to a separate stage within a section of the audience made up largely of pre-teen kids who wanted to know (a) why he was there and (b) when Metallica would actually start playing.
I really don't know where that one came from... but the water damage dreams could have come from being a little feverish overnight. Not for the first time this week, I woke up in a rather soggy, sweaty bed. I've had a few minor cold symptoms lately, but it'd probably be wise to start taking preventative cold medication.
Wednesday, 18 September 2013
Too Much But Nothing At All
At the moment, I'm not entirely sure whether there's lots going on or nothing much at all... Some things may or may not be happening around me. I have paid my share of the service charge, based on an agreement from the landlord that the roof refit will go ahead once all the leaseholders have paid. A couple of guys came round to reposition the 'temporary fix' tarpaulin that has been up on the roof over my flat for about a year, and yet the rain over the last few days has been positively gushing into the bathroom, and was also dripping profusely in the hall at the weekend. I've had another interview with an employment agency, and they have disappointed me all over again (the rep this time hadn't even bothered to read my CV beyond my previous job titles, yet she claims to 'represent' one of the biggest names in Publishing). There was talk of a job that I might be put forward for... but it was supposed to be starting tomorrow, and I didn't get the call. I popped in on a job fair in Harrow's Civic Centre and, while I found nothing to interest me, as such, it was buzzing and full of opportunities geared more toward school leavers than experienced, skilled workers. I've had someone in to quote on replacing my ailing boiler, and they'll be adding several improvements (thermostatic radiator valves and a heated towel rail) into the bargain. I've got all kinds of sketching and writing to do for myself, but rarely find the inclination to do so... That said, I've got one sketch virtually finished and ready for inking... so if I don't get a call about the job tomorrow, I really must try to finish it!
Then, on top of all that, I learned this evening that a sort-of friend of the family (a local personality, my sister went to school with his daughter) died a couple of months ago, after a fall in his back garden. He was an endlessly cheery fellow, always happy to stop for a chat... I hadn't bumped into him in ages, but he will be sorely missed by a great many people, I suspect.
But in spite of all that, I feel as if I'm in a weird little bubble, separated from the world outside... Perhaps that's just a sign that I should, I dunno, go for a walk once in a while?
My girlfriend mentioned recently that she'd had a dream in which she became the assistant on Doctor Who and I confessed that, despite having watched the show since I was a nipper (my folks being big Sci-Fi fans), I can't remember ever having a Doctor Who dream (perhaps I should search this blog for evidence before making such sweeping statements). I spoke too soon, however... I had a Doctor Who dream the very next night... and it went a little bit like this:
It was a kind of 'The x Doctors'-type special, though I'm not sure all his incarnations were covered. Smith and Tennant were there, and David Bradley was there representing William Hartnell (but dressed like a very flamboyant Goth, with some kind of feathered or furred ends to his skin-tight, velvety trousers). There was some kind of TV interview as part of the dream, too, as I remember Tennent speaking about how Peter Davison had insisted on playing his Doctor rather than ceding the role to a younger actor, as some of the others had... Hence Jon Pertwee's Doctor was played by his son (AWESOME!) and most of the others I just couldn't recognise... Though John Hurt's version was in there somewhere, I'm sure. The main difficulty was that all of them were dressed pretty much in the fashion of John Hurt's Doctor, so they weren't identifiable by their costumes, and I didn't see enough of their mannerisms to guess which was which. Mind you, the long scarf gave away the 'Tom Baker' version.
There was also an antagonist - most likely the Master - delivering a monologue (with David Bradley's Doctor and his assistant (SUSAN?! My God, this story is epic!), on the opposite side of a rocky lake (read: old quarry with lots of rainwater in a huge puddle) walking away from their TARDIS to meet up with the other Doctors) about how 'reliable' the Doctor always is... Can't remember the details, but he was another one dressed in Gothish attire... possibly with an old-fashioned military spin? Maybe even Steampunk, but black rather than brown... Whatever, he had long, black hair and no goatee. Shocking.
The story seemed to be something like this: Villain of the Piece was doing some kind of genetic research in a massive base on an alien planet with ginormous raging beasts wandering outside. He had a menagerie of past 'successes' who were essentially mermaid-type creatures, and a few basic, terrestrial sharks (or so they seemed). He also had airborne 'seeker' creatures - little more than flying shark heads, only they were genetically modified versions of local animals, so they didn't look exactly like shark heads - who he would send out to rip 'samples' out of the indigenous life. Literally, these things would fly after something, bite their way inside, bite out the particular organ their master wanted, then fly it back to him.
There was also a bunch of eight or so 'orphans'... Kids of about 8-12 who were being genetically modified by the VotP, and who were beginning to look a bit shark-like. VotP's paraplegic daughter was acting as their teacher, though this was probably tolerated rather than encouraged by her father. At the start of one lesson, one of the younger girls in the group started talking about how having grown up without parents meant that they didn't have much of a moral framework "other than...", at which point she clammed up and cast a quick look in the direction of the oldest boy in the group, who'd clearly set himself up as 'alpha'. He asked how the teacher would feel if he said she'd "become boring", then demonstrated what he did with things he considered boring, by somehow releasing one of the 'mermaids', then one of the 'sharks' into the wide pool overlooked by the classroom.
Cut to the group of Doctors arriving at the VotP's base, easily unlocking the door with one Sonic Screwdriver or another, but bickering amongst themselves as to whose was the most efficient (or something). They hear a scream and a splash, and dash off in the direction of the observation ports surrounding the pool at ground level. 'Pertwee' spies a couple of entry points, instructing one of the other Doctors (Tennant? 'Colin Baker'?) to dash down one tunnel while he goes through the other "and we'll see who gets there first." The other Doctors (and a selection of assistants) dash off upstairs in search of an overlook.
About all I remember after that was that the 'other' Doctors reached the kids' room but found it empty apart from a wheelchair, while 'Pertwee' and whoever went with him had to fend off shark(s) with their sonic screwdrivers until the 'other' Doctors could recall the shark(s) to their pens. I don't think the paraplegic woman was dead... More likely she'd been dragged off by the kids, who had decided to escape the base, and figured she'd have a higher level of access than they did. What I remember of the wheelchair suggests that the only thing that fell into the pool was the control panel/portable computer she used.
It's always a shame to have to leave a dream incomplete and it's very rare that I'm granted a 'continuation' (unless it's a zombie dream!), but I'm very keen to see what happens next...
In other news, I recently forced myself to go to a newly-opened branch of Morrisons in Harrow... and now I'm thinking I might forgo my local shops except in emergencies, and do a proper weekly shop there. Well, there or the Wembley branch of Asda, which seems better-stocked (and cheaper) that the nearest larger Tesco or Sainsbury's. Waitrose may be good, but they're far too expensive for me right now.
The biggest - and strangest - news, though, is that I've actually bought a cellphone for the first time. The one I'd been using for the last few years was a gift/millstone from my boss in my last job - she'd upgraded, and gave her old one to me rather than trade it in (since I had to be on call at all times for certain aspects of my job back then), and it was still working fine... it had just started to fall apart. The upgrade is the same make and isn't massive change... it just has a full (yet dinky) QWERY keyboard, making texting a lot more efficient, and a rather more intricate user interface.
Then, on top of all that, I learned this evening that a sort-of friend of the family (a local personality, my sister went to school with his daughter) died a couple of months ago, after a fall in his back garden. He was an endlessly cheery fellow, always happy to stop for a chat... I hadn't bumped into him in ages, but he will be sorely missed by a great many people, I suspect.
But in spite of all that, I feel as if I'm in a weird little bubble, separated from the world outside... Perhaps that's just a sign that I should, I dunno, go for a walk once in a while?
My girlfriend mentioned recently that she'd had a dream in which she became the assistant on Doctor Who and I confessed that, despite having watched the show since I was a nipper (my folks being big Sci-Fi fans), I can't remember ever having a Doctor Who dream (perhaps I should search this blog for evidence before making such sweeping statements). I spoke too soon, however... I had a Doctor Who dream the very next night... and it went a little bit like this:
It was a kind of 'The x Doctors'-type special, though I'm not sure all his incarnations were covered. Smith and Tennant were there, and David Bradley was there representing William Hartnell (but dressed like a very flamboyant Goth, with some kind of feathered or furred ends to his skin-tight, velvety trousers). There was some kind of TV interview as part of the dream, too, as I remember Tennent speaking about how Peter Davison had insisted on playing his Doctor rather than ceding the role to a younger actor, as some of the others had... Hence Jon Pertwee's Doctor was played by his son (AWESOME!) and most of the others I just couldn't recognise... Though John Hurt's version was in there somewhere, I'm sure. The main difficulty was that all of them were dressed pretty much in the fashion of John Hurt's Doctor, so they weren't identifiable by their costumes, and I didn't see enough of their mannerisms to guess which was which. Mind you, the long scarf gave away the 'Tom Baker' version.
There was also an antagonist - most likely the Master - delivering a monologue (with David Bradley's Doctor and his assistant (SUSAN?! My God, this story is epic!), on the opposite side of a rocky lake (read: old quarry with lots of rainwater in a huge puddle) walking away from their TARDIS to meet up with the other Doctors) about how 'reliable' the Doctor always is... Can't remember the details, but he was another one dressed in Gothish attire... possibly with an old-fashioned military spin? Maybe even Steampunk, but black rather than brown... Whatever, he had long, black hair and no goatee. Shocking.
The story seemed to be something like this: Villain of the Piece was doing some kind of genetic research in a massive base on an alien planet with ginormous raging beasts wandering outside. He had a menagerie of past 'successes' who were essentially mermaid-type creatures, and a few basic, terrestrial sharks (or so they seemed). He also had airborne 'seeker' creatures - little more than flying shark heads, only they were genetically modified versions of local animals, so they didn't look exactly like shark heads - who he would send out to rip 'samples' out of the indigenous life. Literally, these things would fly after something, bite their way inside, bite out the particular organ their master wanted, then fly it back to him.
There was also a bunch of eight or so 'orphans'... Kids of about 8-12 who were being genetically modified by the VotP, and who were beginning to look a bit shark-like. VotP's paraplegic daughter was acting as their teacher, though this was probably tolerated rather than encouraged by her father. At the start of one lesson, one of the younger girls in the group started talking about how having grown up without parents meant that they didn't have much of a moral framework "other than...", at which point she clammed up and cast a quick look in the direction of the oldest boy in the group, who'd clearly set himself up as 'alpha'. He asked how the teacher would feel if he said she'd "become boring", then demonstrated what he did with things he considered boring, by somehow releasing one of the 'mermaids', then one of the 'sharks' into the wide pool overlooked by the classroom.
Cut to the group of Doctors arriving at the VotP's base, easily unlocking the door with one Sonic Screwdriver or another, but bickering amongst themselves as to whose was the most efficient (or something). They hear a scream and a splash, and dash off in the direction of the observation ports surrounding the pool at ground level. 'Pertwee' spies a couple of entry points, instructing one of the other Doctors (Tennant? 'Colin Baker'?) to dash down one tunnel while he goes through the other "and we'll see who gets there first." The other Doctors (and a selection of assistants) dash off upstairs in search of an overlook.
About all I remember after that was that the 'other' Doctors reached the kids' room but found it empty apart from a wheelchair, while 'Pertwee' and whoever went with him had to fend off shark(s) with their sonic screwdrivers until the 'other' Doctors could recall the shark(s) to their pens. I don't think the paraplegic woman was dead... More likely she'd been dragged off by the kids, who had decided to escape the base, and figured she'd have a higher level of access than they did. What I remember of the wheelchair suggests that the only thing that fell into the pool was the control panel/portable computer she used.
It's always a shame to have to leave a dream incomplete and it's very rare that I'm granted a 'continuation' (unless it's a zombie dream!), but I'm very keen to see what happens next...
In other news, I recently forced myself to go to a newly-opened branch of Morrisons in Harrow... and now I'm thinking I might forgo my local shops except in emergencies, and do a proper weekly shop there. Well, there or the Wembley branch of Asda, which seems better-stocked (and cheaper) that the nearest larger Tesco or Sainsbury's. Waitrose may be good, but they're far too expensive for me right now.
The biggest - and strangest - news, though, is that I've actually bought a cellphone for the first time. The one I'd been using for the last few years was a gift/millstone from my boss in my last job - she'd upgraded, and gave her old one to me rather than trade it in (since I had to be on call at all times for certain aspects of my job back then), and it was still working fine... it had just started to fall apart. The upgrade is the same make and isn't massive change... it just has a full (yet dinky) QWERY keyboard, making texting a lot more efficient, and a rather more intricate user interface.
Thursday, 12 September 2013
Raising The Roof
Or perhaps that should be 'razing'..?
Considering the sudden and severe change in the weather over the last week or so, I can only find it darkly amusing that, having waited in for almost two whole days - during which I could have been doing other things - a pair of builders arrived on my doorstep a few minutes ago, all casual like, to finally fix the position of the tarpaulin over my roof, according to my instruction. This is the move they should have done weeks ago but, for no obvious reason, never actually happened. At least this time, one of them took a photo of the correct positioning so, if it does get blown out of position again, they know where it's actually supposed to go back.
Of course, now they've been and gone, and following a couple of days of nasty rain, the sun has come out and it's actually quite warm out.
In other news, my Managing Agents have an agreement from the landlord that, once the service charges are fully paid up, work can commence on replacing the roof. And, hey, all it took was threats of legal action from me (which I still fully intend to pursue) and an ultimatum from the managing agents that either he let them do their job or they'd fire him as a client.
Not exactly the best time of year for replacing a roof now but, hell, I'll take it.
Considering the sudden and severe change in the weather over the last week or so, I can only find it darkly amusing that, having waited in for almost two whole days - during which I could have been doing other things - a pair of builders arrived on my doorstep a few minutes ago, all casual like, to finally fix the position of the tarpaulin over my roof, according to my instruction. This is the move they should have done weeks ago but, for no obvious reason, never actually happened. At least this time, one of them took a photo of the correct positioning so, if it does get blown out of position again, they know where it's actually supposed to go back.
Of course, now they've been and gone, and following a couple of days of nasty rain, the sun has come out and it's actually quite warm out.
In other news, my Managing Agents have an agreement from the landlord that, once the service charges are fully paid up, work can commence on replacing the roof. And, hey, all it took was threats of legal action from me (which I still fully intend to pursue) and an ultimatum from the managing agents that either he let them do their job or they'd fire him as a client.
Not exactly the best time of year for replacing a roof now but, hell, I'll take it.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)