Chapter Four – The Nightmare Continues
D Day – Delivery Day – looms. 10.30 am and no sign of the fitters. Sighing, this is beginning to look familiar – I telephone the Haydock office and am informed that he (he??? Just the one???) is on his way, must be delayed in traffic. Sure enough he turns up 10 minutes later, yes, just the one. But what a one! Pat keeps me informed of his progress with regular telephone calls to my mobile, as he tears into the old units, hacks off the tiles, then pops off to B & Q for some sand and cement to do the floor levelling. What a human dynamo, by the time he finishes the kitchen carcases for the base units are in place, the plumbing and pipe work for the repositioned washing machine, cooker and sink is done and there is a heap of old kitchen units, cooker, fridge etc, in the front garden. The washing machine and tumble dryer block most of the access in the kitchen and it is quite a challenge preparing and dishing out the cats food for the night.
Talking of which, the incident of the day has to be the disappearance of the newest arrival, little Pixie. I get a frantic phone call from Pat to say she cannot find her anywhere. Worrying, especially as she is only 4 months old and we are both quite certain we had all the doors shut. I am almost at home for lunch so I say I will be there in 5 to look for her. 30 seconds later an exceptionally relieved Pat phones back. She has found her, or rather Douglas has. Douglas, if you remember from Chapter 2, is our rescued abused kitten. Pat says to him, “Douglas, where’s Pixie?” and Douglas, bless his little stump ( he had his tail hacked off by yobs when he was just 10 weeks old) goes running into the bedroom and taps at the wardrobe door, Pat opens the door and there is Pixie!
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The following day Darren, the fitter, does not arrive at 8.30 as promised. At 9.10 I am telephoned by Mr D at the Haydock office to say that the van has broken down, literally around the corner, and that Darren will be late as he has to wait for them to send out another van for him. Look on the bright side; at least they had the courtesy to phone. And, in due course, he arrives, fair enough, in a different van, and sets to with the same vigour as the day before. Even, after he is asked ever-so-nicely, by Pat, agreeing to do a little extra job not in the original spec – refitting our self-tapping filter tap to the sink. No problem, Mr Nice Guy personified assures us.
New kitchen under way – looking front
New kitchen under way – looking rear
At this point enter left the electrician. Brief? To re-site two existing double sockets and to fit one new double and two new single sockets. He starts by trying to remove entirely one of the existing double sockets. Not a wise move, certainly not with Pat on the warpath. She fixes him with one of her “cross-me-if-you-dare” stares and steadfastly refuse to accept his plea that “you don’t need it!”. Oh yes we DO! Defeated, he complies with her request and the original spec, even going so far as to misread single for double and leaving us with an extra plug that we actually really do not need.
Meanwhile, centre stage, the man-wonder works all day without a break, albeit gratefully accepting the mugs of tea pressed upon him by Pat, always one to look out for her workmen’s interests. When he leaves this evening we have the outline of a beautiful kitchen, space to feed the cats, and a sink complete with filter tap!! Pat uses it to fill the cats water bowls. I get a call from the kitchen “Carol. This is HOT!” “HOT???” Can’t be. Rush into kitchen to see steaming hot water gushing from the filter. Oh no. Look under sink and, sure enough, it has been connected to the hot tap.
Done! Well, almost – looking front. See the nice, hot, filter tap?
Done! Well, almost – looking rear.
Darren’s language the following morning when he is informed of this has to be heard to be believed. He claims he only connected it the way it was before, to the left hand pipe, but I connected it the first time and I KNOW it was connected to the cold tap. Suddenly light dawns. Modern plumbing has the hot tap to the left; our old kitchen had the hot tap to the right, so we were each, in our own way, right. Anyway, he clams down and refits it, then continues to fit the remaining units and doors.
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Enter stage right the gasman to fit the cooker. Amazingly his visit passes without incident, no telling us what we do and don’t want, no incorrect fitting, just comes, does his job, and leaves! Amazing. At this point Pat telephones me to say, don’t blow a fuse but…, those 4 large cupboards we used to have to the opposite side of the window? Well, we now have three tiny units instead. WHAT??!! AND, they don’t go all the way to the end of the wall. I begin to dread going home.
Eventually, Darren finishes and takes his leave, without, as he was warned, the final payment cheque, there are too many things we are unhappy about for that just yet. I arrive home and, despite the warning and the plea, do blow a fuse. We were promised more storage space than before, we now have significantly less. Don’t get me wrong, the quality of the units themselves is very, very high, the kitchen looks beautiful, or will when the tiling is done, but….. AND there are unusable gaps where any competent designer would have filled in with natty little space saving devices such as corner units or open end shelves. Looks like yet another call to Mr D at Haydock tomorrow.
Gaps to sides of units
And now, the piece-de-resistance! Pat is in the kitchen feeding the kittens when there is a yell, followed by what can best be described as most un-ladylike language. A harassed looking Pat emerges with a less than impressed Pixie in her arms. I will not repeat in polite company the name she called Darren but the hapless fitter is obviously not sleeping the sleep of the just. The base plinth covering the gap beneath the built-in oven has fallen off and Pat has dived to the ground to drag an inquisitive and now very startled Pixie out from the gap, just as she was about to disappear behind the units and to goodness-knows-where. Scraping the poor kitten’s back along the top of the surround to the gap in the process, but better that than lose the kitten and have to dismantle the new kitchen to recover her. Pixie does not forgive easily and sleeps we know not where but certainly not in her usual spot on Pat’s pillow. And the plinth? Fixed on with the nice clips we were informed by the designer were designed, in the event of a spillage/flood from, say, the washing machine, to be clipped off so that we could mop up under, and clip on again? Screwed or nailed on securely? This one, I guarantee, will have you shaking your heads in disbelief. It was stuck on with double sided sticky tape, or, as Pat and Pixie discovered to their cost, not stuck on.
The loose plinth. If you look REALLY closely you can just make out the three strips of double sided sticky tape holding, or , rather, not holding, it on.