MAISON CAMY

Circumvented

2011-11-01T16:09:00.000Z

I have been bypassed by The Client. Given my procrastination on the garden design (and works) she has decided to call in help from a professional. This is definitely a wise move on her part. From now on The Petunia will be looking after things. I am proposing my services as Project Manager just to keep myself in the loop.
The Petunia has been breaking my ears for years now, telling me that Landscape Architects do the old vegetable and paving thingy better than Architects. So now she'll have the chance to prove it.

Garden

2011-06-19T13:31:00.003Z

Having just plucked up the courage to shift 15 cubic metres of site waste from the back yard, I am seriously thinking about turning the space into a garden. Blogging it just might be the best way to work up my enthusiasm.
The Skater tells me he knows how to build ramps and bowls in reinforced concrete. I suggested he draws a plan.

Must see in Dublin

2010-06-14T05:44:00.003Z

Bridget O'Rourke

Köttbullar

2009-11-11T09:28:00.009Z

I have been witnessed saying that I will never go back to Ikea - in fact all of the Ikea furniture that had survived since our 'young couple' days was either burnt or given away when the old house was demolished.
But humble pie tastes good and italian designer kitchens are for boom times. When the budget's stretched and you have the intention to DIY, Ikea does present the ideal solution of a system that takes everything into consideration at a reasonable price (no I'm not sponsored...yet).

So off we went, bravely.

It's not up there with moving house, or getting married/divorced or renewing your expired carte de séjour or any of those other traumatic life experiences, but it's not far off. A Sunday buying your flat packed kitchen from Ikea is up there in the top 20.
When we arrived, smugly clutching our Ikea Home Planner printout, with 20 minutes to spare before opening time, we were quickly taken down a notch by the sight of a good two dozen brave souls already installed in an orderly queue before the entrance. These people must be the experts. They had that hardened look of those that have seen frontline action before. They had what it takes. They hadn't gone for that extra 5 minutes in bed after the alarm went off, or that second cup of coffee. When the doors finally opened our worst fears were confirmed. We followed blindly behind, realising that we were in fact like new born lambs to the whole thing. These people before us, bunched up in a fast moving scrum and rapidly disappearing behind a distant line of Billies, had already discovered the Swedish furniture shop equivalent of the Northwest Passage. Borrowing routes previously only known to the yellow and blue clad indigens they led us on a trail behind 'babychange facility', across '25m² studio for cash strapped student', through 'finance waiting' directly to Faktum Land and a numbered ticket. All this without the use of any visible hand held navigation system. (GPS doesn't get a signal in Ikea).
From the front door stampede at 10am to the obligatory post trauma cup of tea it was 7 hours of hell without the help of a phrase book or even a break for a reindeer burger.
The overall experience was akin to having been the unwitting victim of a Walace and Gromit style assembly line without the advantage of a conveyor belt.
Eventually we were spat out onto a 1 in 8 loading bay ramp with 250Kilos of flat pack on a runaway trolley in search of our hire van.

The Client drove, and I was Mr Shifter.

Don't forget to tighten the screws.

ticking over

2009-11-06T13:20:00.004Z

Not getting the respect you deserve at home? take some advice:

Man Tools

Remember it'll soon be Xmas.

Wave goodbye

2009-10-01T18:00:00.004Z

This is the last photo taken before the larger than expected wave took me by surprise and permanently compromised the circuitry of my camera.

This, amongst other things, in part explains the recent lack of posting.

Interior joinery is now underway. The Skater has a partition and door to his room. A real kitchen has been promised for Xmas. The actual kitchen is made up of IKEA 'faktum' base units with no doors, which prompted the following heartfelt sarcastic comment from one architect’s SO (significant other) that visited recently: ‘oh, you’ve got an architect designed kitchen!.

The first furniture has been ordered by The Client. She has white card (carte blanche - ours avec moi) on choice and colour – the trade off for giving The Architect a free hand on the house itself. A lot of self doubt has been expressed since the order went in but I’m sure it’ll be just fine. We have 8 weeks to wait.

hot off the press

2009-06-29T15:58:00.005Z

The scaffolding team arrive at seven. They are five. I am one. It is twenty going on thirty....

The scaffolding is attached to the house with an anchor every 20 square metres. As the façade progressed I worked around the anchors leaving holes in first the insulation and then the timber cladding. These holes now need to be filled as the scaffolding is taken down. So I fill in the missing bits as the scaffolding comes down around around my ears. My terra firma for the last 4 months starts swaying like an enormous jelly. I'm so used to my giant solid steel shelving system that the first time it sways I swear blind I'm pushing the house over with the screw I'm driving home.

By three all is finished.....

Everyone, with the exception of the cat, is pleased to see the scaffolding go.

It's just like unwrapping a big birthday present. The Skater says its 'futurist'. I think he really meant to say 'modern' and is not referring to the triumph of speed and technology over nature in early twentieth century Italy. But one never can tell with The Skater.

The Client will be pleased.

Stay tuned. This is not the end.

Roll of drums

2009-06-24T10:24:00.006Z

Scaffolding coming down soon - just put in the request. One more weekend of up and down the ladders like an early version of Donkey Kong and it's all over. Well, at least the façade.
Unfortunately no respite in sight for The Architect as The Skater has put in an urgent request for a wall and door for his bedroom.
Really, the cheek, when I was a lad we had to make do with...........

Beige?

2009-06-15T07:51:00.005Z

Saturday morning at 7 am work starts on rendering the end wall (or 'pignon' in French). The end wall is in 20cm clay insulating bricks with an internal insulation, so it needs a render finish to make it weather tight and finish it off.

The render is projected onto the wall under pressure with a flexible hose from the compresser parked in the street. The compresser makes an infernal noise so communication is impossible without shouting very loudly, which the team of 4 builders manages very well. My command of portugese being limited to approximate interpretations of menus, I presume they are only shouting important instructions about the pressure regulation or the mix of sand and cement in order to spare the neighbours as much as possible an unpleasant awakening. I suspect, however that they are more likely discussing a football match or the events of the previous evening.
By the beginning of the afternoon the work is finished and a calm, broken only by the sound of distant DIY, returns to the neighbourhood.

The English Neighbour admires the work and asks when it's going to be painted beige like all the other houses in the quarter. I presume she's just teasing me and smile back....or maybe she really thinks I'd paint something beige?

The timber cladding is finished. All that remains are the fibre cement panels.

Photos to follow when the tropical rain forest effect weather ceases.

Progress slow

2009-06-08T06:15:00.004Z

Progress on the cladding is slow. Rear façade 50%. Front façade 80%.
The render to the end wall is programmed for the end of the week. Passers by stop and watch. Cars slow down. Lots of questions. Neighbours chart the progress and comment on my form for the day. The Client likes it - but can't wait till it turns grey. The Skater hasn't noticed anything different - maybe I should post it for him on facebook?

Dernière lignes droites

2009-05-25T08:02:00.006Z

Back to black. The chevrons are hidden by a building paper.

A test panel to verify the spacing.

And off we go on the rear façade. The Portuguese Neighbour was there to lend a hand. The English Neighbour took a break from planting her busy lizzies (?) to witness the first batten. The Client handed large pint glasses of cool water through the open window.

The street façade is next. Maybe we should swing a bottle of champagne against the side and invite the queen.

Chevronné

2009-05-20T08:53:00.003Z

The façade is now practically ready to receive the larch finish. Last little detail is to cover the vertical timber firrings with UV resistant building paper in order to make them invisible behind the hit and miss cladding battens.
The lousy weather, worthy of a British summer, looks like clearing up for the long 'ascension' weekend. Just what's needed.

MacGyver

2009-05-04T12:05:00.005Z

The drums of bituminous glue are too large for me. Once the powdered hardening agent is added to the black liquid it goes off in an hour and a half – (theoretically). Which means it’s a race against time to slap the stuff up before I get left with a drum full of extremely thick unspreadable gunge.
The technical rep had warned me about the problem and suggested that I only tackle a half a drum at a time. However, the practicalities of decanting and measuring out something that looks and smells for all the world like sewage that’s been in a blender does not appeal.
On any normal building site there would be the builder and the builder’s mate (friendly lot, builders). On the Maison Camy site there is The Architect all on his tod. In the theoretical 90 minutes of spreading window allowed there’s no way I’m going to use that much glue. So, Inspired by French cult figure MacGyver* and having read the small print on the product warnings I hastily put together a device to solve the problem.

The drum of glue sits in a tray made from an old container (recycled from famous ‘F bracket’ box) and polythene (recycled from the insulation wrapping) filled with water, the drum is then covered in cardboard (also recycled) bound tightly to the drum with string. The bottom of the cardboard sits in the water. By capillary action, and a little help, the cardboard becomes wet.
An old fan heater (recycled from The Client’s attempt to stay warm in a house without insulation) on blow without heat setting is then placed in front. The air current aids the evaporation of the water from the soaked cardboard. In order to evaporate, the water requires a significant amount of thermal energy – called the latent heat of evaporation – which it takes from the immediate environment, i.e. the drum of glue. The net result is a lowering of the drum’s temperature.
Now that the drum is at 10 degrees below ambient temperature the chemical reaction will be slowed down. The hardener is added and away we go – a full three hours of sticking fun.
Am I boring you? I know this would certainly bore The Client.

Anyway, work has now progressed so rapidly on the insulation that we are now ready to start the timber cladding.

*The MacGyver series was so popular in France that the term Macgyver has become part of the language – meaning the improvisation of pseudo scientific solutions to life threatening situations using everyday household objects.
Beats the hell out of me why the series was so popular in France. It could have been the Canadian connection.
Also makes you wonder what life must be like in France if the average French person gets to use the word regularly in conversation.

Hell is full of tar

2009-04-15T15:48:00.004Z

Feeling like a walking oilslick. The only thing that'll get it off is butter. Normandy butter with 'gros sel' - gives it that slight abrasive quality that does the trick. The idea is that there's more of it on the façade than on me but being a novice at tar slinging it's just not happening the way it should.

It's the dirtiest job I've had since changing The Skater's nappies

And as predicted the first panels of insulation go on the façade the day the heating goes off for the summer.

The Client will be as warm as toast next winter.

Dentistry

2009-03-15T19:43:00.007Z

The Skater, on a break from serious revising, came to inspect the works. Even boring architect stuff is interesting when the only alternative is memorising algebraic formula and key dates from World War II.

He wanted to know what the smell was that reminded him of the dentists. We narrowed it down to the resin used to anchor the bolts into the hollow brickwork of the façade. Apparently it must be the same product that gets used for anchoring braces to The Skaters teeth. Puts a whole new perspective on what I'm up to. Drilling, pumping the resin in and bolting on steel brackets. Just like the dentist. Only things missing are the Vivaldi sound track, back issues of Tatler and the assistant in a white coat.
If I was being paid at the same rate per m2 as The Skaters dentist I could quite happily retire on the weekends proceeds.

The street façade is set out and bracketed. Next weekend the garden façade.

Setting out

2009-03-08T11:27:00.005Z

In the time honoured tradition of all great French architectural masterpieces, very soon after having been delivered to the end user, the Maison Camy is now completely covered in scaffolding. The only exception to the tradition being the Centre Georges Pompidou where, despite very little scaffolding having been used during the construction, your average Parisian, Josèphe Souffle, is convinced that the building is made of scaffolding that has never been taken down.

The scaffolding is attracting attention from passers by (in a Tom Waits 'what's he building in there?' style). A tentative start has been made setting out the positions of the stainless steel brackets that will hold the timber cladding. The cat cottoned on rapidly to the advantage of scaffolding and now surprises The Client regularly with his plaintive cries to be let in at first and second floor levels of the house, hitherto completely inaccessible. The scaffolding, in feline reasoning, represents a serious increase in square metres of defendable territory and will no doubt become the source of elevated night time battles.

The Architect is testing out an entirely revolutionary building technique as yet untried by small building contractors in France. It involves unfolding a plan and looking at it before you build. Readers will be kept informed on the relative merits of the technique as opposed to the more traditional methods.

I will no doubt be punished for my arrogance, in reality I'm quite apprehensive of the whole thing, especially the timescale of what's to be done.

Floored

2009-02-15T15:14:00.004Z

The Architect is taking a well deserved break from the works this week end to admire the long winter shadows across the newly laid parquet. The habitable surface area has been doubled and the dust relegated to the ground floor. The countdown has started for the facade.

Blogging will be resumed in march.

'To all my friends' Happy New Year (100th blog post)

2009-01-27T19:20:00.006Z

The Architect has not lived up to his promises yet again. The Client had to suffer the cold spell that heralded in the new year with a pile of snow covered insulation gracing the back garden.
Façade activities have been postponed until the beginning of March when the scaffolding arrives.

Still, things are looking up on the inside. This week the parquet gets laid. This will double our surface area and (very nearly) end our cohabitation with concrete dust.

The task has very wisely been entrusted to the capable hands of a professional - no not the man in Armani back from his wedding, but a more sensibly priced joiner from the provinces.
The Joiner and his team are very efficient. They have exceedingly cool tools that make The Architect a wee bit envious.

At the end of the week the floor and the two staircases will be finished leaving The Architect and The Client to finish the decorating at the weekend.

Merry Xmas

2008-12-25T19:59:00.005Z

The Skater reckons that the Père Noël has brought me the biggest Kapla set in the whole world. A day in advance, the sleigh, pulled by four nervous reindeer, their antlers festonned with glittering frost from the Siberian forest, pulled up outside the Maison Camy to deliver 2km of Russian larch.

It's more or less a year since The Client moved into the Maison Camy and two years since the first blog entry. This time last year the Xmas tree was improvised from a stepladder. There's still a fair amount of improvisation involved in the living arrangements but things are moving in the right direction. The parquet next month will double the habitable surface area. The façade cladding will add a few degrees to the internal temperature.

The best of all seasons greetings to all the visitors to the Maison Camy and especially to those who've spiced things up with their comments; mdw, MOA and TOA and Petunia Girl, - also thank you to those who've offered the occasional encouragement that reassures me I'm not talking to myself. Wherever you are in the world have a good one.

PARQUET n.m. Revêtement de sol en lames

2008-12-16T12:53:00.006Z

One of those many french words that have found their way into the english language, parquet. Originally a term to describe an enclosure surrounded by a plank fence. There are various laying patterns possible, each has a name;
Parquet Versailles, Parquet à bâtons rompus, Parquet à point de Hongrie and last but not least Parquet à Frises or Parquet à l'Anglaise.
Of course, it goes without saying, we'll be having the Parquet à l'Anglaise in oak. How very english. I think I'll take up cricket. Anyone know how to make cucumber sandwiches?

Singes en laiton avec gelure des couilles

2008-12-13T14:42:00.007Z

Cold, so cold. New from the people who brought you Croft 3 (mdw), 'skyecommute', an everyday story of country folk that brave the ferocious highland climate day in and day out. Like a trappist monk doing a road test for Top Gear, essentially a visual experience, the daily commute from one side of Skye to the other will leave you breathless with its outstanding beauty and sheer gobsmacking ruggedness.

The right tool

2008-12-10T13:20:00.003Z

This one’s for mdw who, without realising the awful truth, suggested that I might be kitted up like ‘Bob ze Builder’.
‘Bob ze Builder’ has had exposure here in France, having been liberally sprinkled over the hexagon via multiple satellite channels. Unlike the UK though, the adult population over here has not yet started behaving like Bob. The British mass ‘do-it-yourself’ ‘makeover’ hysteria has yet to be seen in France.

So I suppose I’m a bit avant-garde.

The Skater’s not of the same opinion. He took one look at my orderly organisation of spare garage space, muttered ‘geek’ under his breath and left quickly for an appointment with some poor unsuspecting urban landscaping project.

The Client, drawing on her experience as a psychology graduate back in the 80’s suggested that it was essentially ‘a male thing’ and didn’t think it was a problem as long as I could still maintain eye contact.

Next week I’ll show you my power tools.

The Joiners Tale – or the lace and finery of the humble man

2008-12-05T08:34:00.003Z

It was about two years ago, the point at which I realised the building industry was going 'boom' crazy. It was the moment when the first joiner, first of many that is, walked into my office wearing a drop dead minimalist dark grey Armani suit.

He’d sent me a quote for a couple of sliding doors and 50 square metres of parquet. When the fax arrived I wasn’t even shocked by the figure, I naturally assumed he’d made an error. After assuring me on the phone that he hadn’t added an extra zero by mistake or he wasn't offering me a luxury bright yellow car worthy of Jeremy Clarkson, I suggested we had a meeting to go through the figures together.

Now, you might say what’s wrong with a joiner wanting to dress up smart when he’s not on site. You might have a point. Maybe on a scale of Political Correctness it comes way down at the bottom to assume that just because of the job they do, certain people can’t once in a while dress smart. It’s was certainly more aesthetically pleasing than the extremely hirsute stone mason that turned up mid-week to sign a contract, fresh from an energetic summer tennis match still in damp shorts, armless string vest and multiple multicoloured sweat bands (that somehow had not quite fulfilled their purpose). I hope you’re getting the mental picture there of what string vest, curly body hair and sweat add up to. Would you have signed?

Somehow you have to look the part. At least make an excuse why you’re out of character. The joiner could have told me he was on his way to a wedding, or a funeral or even that he had the lead role in an amateur dramatic production of The Godfather and I might have been slightly less taken aback.
It even occurred to me that maybe he might have been influenced by rumours that certain builders put about concerning the sexuality of architects (male ones that is)– especially English architects (thank you Edith Cresson). I had this vision of him saying to his spotty faced and pierced sawdust covered apprentices ‘Hey you guys see you later, gotta meet an architect about a job – I’ll just slip out of this overall into something black and sexy’.

Anyway, needless to say, the prices didn’t budge, justified presumably by the joiners high dry cleaning overheads, and the contract wasn’t signed.

All of which is what, in part, explains why The Architect has been investing heavily in woodworking tools.

And, why The Client has had to be so patient.

Quincaillerie

2008-11-27T09:17:00.005Z

The screws (4 400) and brackets arrived today. In anticipation of global warming bringing the sea closer to Maison Camy The Architect has specified stainless steel for all the fixings.
The order has been placed for the timber cladding. Russian Larch was the final choice.
2 250 metres of 22 x 55 finished russian larch. It should be arriving in three weeks time.

Only two items left on the shopping list before works commence: fibre cement panels for cladding the slab edge detail between first and second floor glazing on the rear elevation, and last but not least - the scaffolding.

Wood

2008-11-19T07:19:00.008Z

Prices are coming in for the timber cladding. The Red Cedar is looking decidedly expensive. Despite a long tradition of importation into France from Canada via the port of La Rochelle it seems to be the economic outsider. The essence 'most likely to' for the moment is the Siberian Larch. The technical term for the cladding is called 'clairevoie' in french, which translates as 'hit and miss'. This basically means that timber battens, in this case with a trapezoidal section, are screwed or nailed to a timber substructure at regular intervals leaving a small shadow gap. The timber external skin is more or less purely decorative. You could say that it protects the real weatherproof layers behind from attack fromUV light. Siberian Larch, like the Red Cedar, does not need treating for external use.

Timber framing and timber cladding in the domestic housing market has been around in the UK for a long time. Back in the early eighties it was already a commonplace choice of building technique. In France, however, there has always been a reluctance from the general public to accept timber framed houses as a long term solution. The French ideal is of course as everyone knows a chateau built of stone!

Things are changing. Since the turn of the millenium French architects have been adding wood into their palette of materials, essentially in public works projects. The general population has become accustomed to seeing wood on the facades of their libraries and schools. The ecological awakening here is late in coming but quite extraordinary in its ferocity and no self respecting low energy building project is complete without its obligatory 'badge' of visible wood. All this publicity will eventually trickle down into the housing market. The credit crunch will help, along with the increasingly demanding thermal efficiency targets set by the government. Timber wall construction has a lot of voids and filling those voids with insulations means you can easily obtain the lower U values without loosing floor area.

On a recent factory visit, sounding out a steel and aluminium curtain wall contractor for a project, the managing director proudly presented me a partitionned off section of the factory where wood working equipement was being installed for assembly line production. The target market being the timber framed 'pavillon' or detached private residence. He already had is first orders and was, despite current trends, busy hiring technical staff for the drawing office.
The future, at least in France, is wooden.

Yes!

2008-11-05T07:40:00.002Z

Only one thing to say, apart from thank you America:

I wouldn't like to be a moose in Alaska this weekend.

A wintercoat for Maison Camy

2008-11-03T13:39:00.004Z

The insulation arrived today and I can confirm; it does smell!

On the positive side however, it is made from 66% 'post consumer' recycled glass. Which gives me a sort of feel good effect from knowing that all my bottled beer drinking efforts are going to good use.

With the insulation came the glue and the elusive 'F bracket'.

Next on the list timber and scaffolding. The Client is going to be so warm this winter.

Going fisching

2008-10-30T09:11:00.004Z

For those of you who don't think The Architect is serious, here's proof of his intentions.

The insulation is delivered on monday. The feelers are out for the timber cladding. Red cedar, siberian melèze, or oak, what will it be? The Client prefers red cedar.
The cedar would be a nice choice. Especially as The Architect adores the heady vapours given off by freshly sawn red cedar. Perhaps this could be the antidote for insulation that smells like sewer gas?

Silent but deadly

2008-10-16T11:21:00.004Z

Whist waiting further news on the building insulation front I perused the technical documentation concerning the product. Apparently small amounts of hydrogen sulfide* are trapped inside the bubbles of glass that go to make up the insulating foam. The H2S is a byproduct of the manufacturing process. On cutting or applying pressure to the foam slabs small amounts of H2S are released. The manufacturer advises strongly that the cutting takes place outdoors and not in a non ventilated enclosed space.

I wonder, how much pressure you have to apply for a release of H2S? Would the pressure of a strong wind on the façade do the trick? Imagine a house that farts when the wind blows......

As Buzz Aldrin would say 'bout as welcome as a fart in a space suit'.

*According to wikipedia - implicated in mass extinctions - there ya go!

Sourcing

2008-10-10T07:09:00.003Z

The Architect is into ‘sourcing’ (as I believe it is now called across the water) all the materials for the facade. This is no mean feat and involves a lot of internet browsing, and faxing and sending of emails. Of course, for any ordinary project, you’d just turn up at the nearest do-it-yourself mega store with a list and a hire truck. Unfortunately for The Architect, he has chosen a panoply of apparently exotic materials (at least in the eyes of the average French builders merchant). Silly architect tempted by all those glossy pamphlets with the buy line ‘as used by Johnny Novelty in his latest you’ve never seen this one before project’.

Take for instance the insulation. Chosen for its quite impressive U value (keep warm factor for the uninitiated) the material comes in the form of black panels of solidified molten glass foam. The material is made in the USA and there is only one authorized dealer for the whole of France. As the only source for this amazing 21st century insulating material one would imagine that they would know all about the product. Well you’d be mistaken. They haven’t a clue.
I know it’s black. They know it’s black; So far so good. I know it needs an F bracket every 4th row. They’ve never heard of the F bracket. I know the glue comes in 13kilo tubs. They’ve only got 28kilo tubs……

Jennifer: ‘Ere Chantal, this blokes asking me for an F bracket, you ‘eard a that?’
Chantal: ‘Naa, never had an F bracket before’

3 days later and there’s still no quote. I suppose they’re out looking for an F bracket.

Sainthood

2008-09-25T11:57:00.004Z

Petunia Girl has been talking to The Client.

Petunia Girl has been comparing The Client to a saint. She was referring to The Clients extraordinary patience and the understanding she exhibits towards The Architect with respect to the ongoing state of unfinishedness experienced by the inhabitants of Maison Camy.

(Petunia Girl is apparently a lot less saintlike with her man, but that’s a whole other discussion we ain’t going into).

So, Sunday last The Client decided to come down a notch or two in the sainthood rankings in order to make a few things very clear to The Architect. The essence of which was – that not being ‘poulets de printemps’ any more it would be greatly appreciated if one day soon she could expect to actually ‘live’ in the house instead of camping in it.

The Engineer has come back confirming more or less, give or take a couple of mm on the bolt diameter, The Architects specification for attaching the timber cladding.
Nothing to hold me back now.

Indian summer?

2008-09-11T17:10:00.004Z

Well done to mdw for spotting the sectionned octopus in the last post.

Other delights of distant summer days include – waves, mountains, beautiful tapas ; watching ‘The Skater’ holding his own in a tug-o-war, nose to nose with a Spanish cop (who’d decided to confiscate his board for upsetting old ladies with a few grinds along a black granite bench on the seafront in Donostia,) ; sculptures by Chillida………….etc.

Now that the threat of a rogue black hole ending our existence has become yesterdays news along with lipstick on pigs and other such delights (even though the LHC doesn’t plan to collide at full power for another two weeks) I suppose that I have no excuse for not finishing the façade. Putting off urgent domestic tasks in the face of imminent extinction must run in the family. The Cuban missile crisis made my mother think twice before re-decorating the living room.

Alas, back to work. An Engineer is, at this very moment, checking out my façade project. Verifying that I have the right type and number of bolts to stop the timber cladding flying off with the next tail end of a hurricane that comes by.

Back online

2008-09-10T16:17:00.000Z

No apologies for absence. Holidays have intervened and curtailed building activity.

House music

2008-06-10T11:13:00.004Z

The Architect has often compared building to cooking, and everyone is aware of architecture being likened to music, but a building being played as a musical instrument?

David Byrne is still out there pushing back the limits of creative insanity:

David Byrne: Playing the building

Going on tour is going to be difficult unless there are any volunteers. Maybe he'd like to play the Maison Camy?

Sysiphus

2008-06-08T20:17:00.003Z

Thanks to Petunia girl my hands aren't bleeding this week.

Idle random thoughts whilst laying bricks

2008-05-31T18:37:00.008Z

The Client doesn't like Wings of Desire. She got up and left the cinema after fifteen minutes. She says that real people don't have profound philosophical thoughts about the meaning of life when they're sat in the metro. She says that they're thinking about things like 'is there enough cat litter to last out the week?'

Do you ever get the feeling that you're watching the movie of your life? Just like in the cinema you watch the hero and say to yourself 'Why is he doing that? I certainly wouldn't do that if I was in his shoes' but the guy justs carries on regardless of your thoughts on the subject. Somewhere in me there's a spectator in the front row seat with a big bucket of popcorn and the answer, but I'M NOT LISTENING.

What else should I write about? After all I'm only building a wall. After you've recovered from the excitement of the first course it's like watching paint dry. The cement burns my skin till it bleeds. The rubber gloves would help but I loose contact with the mortar. On the sack the instructions suggest that the mortar should be 'unctuous'. How could I tell whether or not it was 'unctuous' through rubber gloves?

Living dangerously

2008-05-22T16:30:00.003Z

The Client has taken to doing nothing.

Girls are always supposed to good at being whilst we boys excel at doing, or so the builders self help guide to laying glass blocks tells me on page 44 (with a diagram).

When I say she’s doing nothing, this is a slight exaggeration as she’s actually sitting with her feet up reading a book next to our chic green garden table, which, as the only big piece of viable furniture we own, adorns the bare concrete living room. She’s been there for nearly an hour and a half and apart from an occasional trip to the window for a cigarette has apparently not changed position since I donned my blue overalls picked up my mighty trowel and sallied forth to fight the anarchy and chaos in our lives. Looking up from my tub of mortar in the garage I see regular wisps of white smoke from the living room window. Another Pope perhaps?

To be fair to The Client, the game consists of working in secret so as to annoy The Architect. As soon as my back is turned she drops the book and gets on with whatever there is to be done. The minute she hears my footsteps on the stair she drops everything and resumes her reading.

It is a well developed technique.

And it works every time.

Encore des briques?

2008-05-17T15:58:00.004Z

Progress is slow. One row takes a generous half day. The timber form was a help at first but the changing humidity has a disastrous effect on the geometry. The level is now established with a laser.

For The Skater (I know, it's boring.....no kickflips etc.)

2008-05-16T14:47:00.002Z

Glass blocks

2008-05-05T10:49:00.006Z

The Architect is back on the job building a wall.
A Glass block wall.

Convoluted temporary timber structures define volumes and curves in space. Concrete, mortar and glass fill the volumes. All this just to daylight the garage? A garage that The Client has already declared as redundant.

The Architect is momentarily struck by a fit of deconstructivism as the formwork becomes more interesting than the finished product.

Beware of false idols.

Garage doors

2008-03-16T21:48:00.006Z

The finished garage doors look good but the finish will not hold up for long as the steel sheet has only a very thin coating of zinc to protect it from the elements. Paint will be needed at some stage. The Client asked hopefully whether or not it would rust.

The Client likes 'corten'.

She's always trying to be more architect than The Architect.

Riveting stuff

2008-02-22T08:57:00.005Z

The Client reckons the last post and my paranoid rantings about Telecom were a bit too 'green ink and no margins', so, to avoid being profiled, this week we're back to the hard reality of living on a building site.
The garage doors are receiving their cladding in sheet steel. The Portuguese Neighbour called round to lend me his rivet gun. Despite being dressed up to the nines, he couldn't resist getting down on his hands and knees to show me the right technique and fix the first row of rivets.

The zinc coated steel matches a treat the bare concrete walls of the ground floor. As The Portuguese Neighbour leaves, probably to find a dry cleaners before facing up to his wife, I settle down to the task of drilling and riveting. My back turned to the street, and the front of the house only separated by a thin strip of land from the pavement, I can hear the conversations of everyone that passes by. The steel railings are made of 10cm blades of steel and act like vertical jalousies (Venitian blinds) in the sense that you can't see through them at an angle. Which of course means that my presence, apart from the occasional clack of the rivet gun, goes unnoticed to passers by. Mother and small child, 'Mummy mummy, isn't that the ugly house?', 'shh, yes darling that's the one'.

Voila, the ultimate accolade.

Zapping Zapruder

2008-02-08T10:23:00.000Z

The next visit from Telecom man proved unfruitful. This time the manhole was not blocked by a parked vehicle, it had disappeared! Unable to find the other end of the wire pulling line left by the previous Telecom man, he had to admit defeat. On being asked whether or not he had access to a plan or an engineer he could call in for assistance he replied :

'I'm private sector mate, I don't 'av any a that stuff'.

Curiously, connecting us to the outside world with this little bit of cable between the house and the manhole (that has taken seven months so far) is one of the last remaining areas where Telecom still have a monopoly. Having subcontracted out every little bit of the task to separate private subcontractors, Telecom have forgotten the essential component - that worked so well in the water company intervention - coordination.

On returning the following day Telecom man managed to find the manhole (probably brought a divining rod with him). Only problem being the distance between the manhole and the house. Unable to accomplish the pull through on his own he enlisted the assistance of the French Neighbour, who, despite his 80 years of age, is a remarkably strong man. Regular exercise tossing boules in the back garden means he can double as a Telecom man apprentice when needed (big thank you needed here for French Neighbour).

So now, roll of drums, we have the telephone. The Client opened a bottle of champagne in celebration and maybe this weekend we'll hang out flags.

On a not unrelated point, according to New Scientist magazine, two Russian mathematicians have suggested that the Large Hadron Collider, or LHC as it's known (actually under construction) will mark a very important turning point in history, so to speak. Apparently the LHC will be sufficiently powerful to send particles back in time. This, say the Russians, will make it the first time machine. If their theory is correct, time travel into the past is not possible beyond the moment of the creation of the first time machine. Implacable logic which implies that from the moment the LHC springs to life we will have the first 'time tourists' visiting us from the future. This will inevitably prove frustrating for the first 'time tourism' companies who will be technically limited to visits from the year 2008 onwards. Which means, more importantly, no special day return trip for The Architect back to the grassy knoll to find out who (or how many) really did it.

Well there's still a ray of hope - judging by my experiences with our national Telecom company they've already invented the time machine and managed to take French telecommunications back to those legendary days of the early sixties.

Where do I book? Anyone got Richard Bransons phone number? I have a phone!

PS: Implacable Russian logic probably involves a lot of vodka.

put a rabbit

2008-02-04T12:21:00.000Z

The saga continues. Telecom faltered just before the finishing line. We are now 7 months from the start. After the - terribly tiny hole in the pavement - stage, the next, and hopefully last ordeal lined up was supposed to be the - pulling a tiny cable through an overly large plastic conduit - stage.

The appointment was for 14h00. At 13h00 The Architect receives a call from Telecom man, who announces in a voice that hasn't appreciated the ban on smoking in cafés 'Sorry mate, I've arrived early and there's nobody 'ere' *. This of course came as no surprise to The Architect, who is resolutely punctual though never early by one whole hour, except when it's a meeting with The Client .
'Can you come an open up mate?'
'Of course I can my good man.' I replied
The Architect sets of immediately on foot/bicycle/train/bus to regain Maison Camy as quickly as is humanly possible (if you've been waiting 7 months for a telephone you can run really fast whilst eating a sandwhich).
Half way there, somewhere between bicycle and train, another call arrives on the mobile from Telecom man 'Ere guv there's a car parked on the manhole cover, a green Opel'
He obviously thinks I know everyone in town and will instantly be able to call the owner. I suggest he waits another 15 minutes until I get there and together we'll sort the situation out. Needless to say when I arrive he's gone, and in the street, not a single green Opel to be seen.

The Architects mother, who has had many more years of 'call centre/technician intervention' experience, suggested the obvious that I had ignored - the green Opel that was blocking the works actually belonged to the Telecom man and it was his way of saying he'd finished his day and was 'off 'ome mate'

Next time lets hope he parks the car on his bloody foot - that way when I arrive he might just still be around.

' 'ere, that don't 'alf 'urt mate'

*(I've taken the liberty of translating French directly into Cockney to conserve the authenticity of the dialogs - no disrespect to either intended)

A joint problem? look no further

2008-01-31T14:06:00.000Z

Take a look at this original approach to jointing in the home by MOA and TOA.
It's just like TV shopping (without the subtitles).

Voiture balai

2008-01-29T14:35:00.000Z

The terribly tiny hole that had to be made in the pavement in order to connect Maison Camy to the outside world has been dug. Finally Telecom are approaching the finishing line in last position 6 months after the first 'prise de contacte'.
Wideband, 200 channels and free phoning are just around the corner.
The next post on Maison Camy will be made FROM the Maison Camy, heralding a new era of blogging - more pertinent, more humourous, more laid back, more informative, more frequent, more.......just more and more (Maison Camy always in the zeitgeist - work less / earn more / score top models).
This new era will be known as Phase II Maison Camy. Posting will be devoted to the 'client works' destined to transform a building site into a habitable dwelling. Upcoming themes include; 'external insulation and timber cladding', 'scaffolding', 'traditionally laid parquet', 'new uses for old satellite dishes', 'the cat flap' etc. Can't wait can you?
Guided tours have started but please don't apply unless you are a fully qualified architect. The Client has decided that only architects can visit, as only they will understand how anyone can live in such conditions of 'inachèvement'.

Winter Sales

2008-01-10T17:54:00.000Z

The Client, to make a point about living on a building site, has decided to dress appropriately. The unforeseen added advantage will no doubt come in the crush of the January sales....... 'Excuse me madam, would you mind moving to one side please?'

Merry Xmas

2007-12-26T12:11:00.000Z

Seasons greetings and best wishes to friends and readers.

The Client, full of imagination at the challenge of taking up the interior decoration, decided on a thematic Christmas tree.

Santa has left an enormous R2D2 lookalike industrial vacuum cleaner for The Architect. I think that's called a hint.

We're in

2007-12-17T08:24:00.000Z

The topping out seems like a lifetime ago, the sardines grilling in the garden, the vinho verde chilling in a bucket, the roof a skeleton of timber silhouetted against a blue sky. Here we are now, in deepest darkest winter, at long last moving in.
The interior is still very much a building site despite several weekends of painting and decorating. Slowly but surely, familiar domestic objects emerge, awakened prematurely from their 15 month bubble wrap and cardboard cocooned hibernation.

First real meal, first night in the Maison Camy. The Architect, The Client and The Skater are now in residence. Amidst dust, boxes, pipes and sawdust, the garden table was laid out for soup and pasta. Despite The Architects worst fears the house immediately felt like home. The warmth of domestic bliss slowly pushed back the cold fear of disorder and chaos initiating a genuine genus loci.

However, the morning shower, in stark contrast, was a rather bracing shock - especially for The Client who doesn't benefit from any English blood. The boiler is still supplying sporadic bursts of hot water - or should that be sporadic bursts of cold water?

The works continue.

Störung

2007-12-14T19:48:00.000Z

If the plumber has managed to sort out the little problem of producing hot running water from our sophisticated German condensing boiler we might be in the Maison Camy tomorrow. The boiler has a very complicated control panel, lots of buttons symbols and lights and gauges. We’re told, in a rather chauvinistic manner by The Plumber, that its liquid crystal display screen will only speak German to us. Inferring that we would have been much wiser choosing a French boiler. Luckily it has a very limited vocabulary. For the last three weeks it’s been flashing the word Störung at us. No need for The Architect to go back to the Institut Goethe, a phone call confirms the obvious, the boiler is out of order.

Les genoux d'abeille

2007-11-28T16:09:00.000Z

Silent black cylindrical sentinels confectioned from finest linseed guard the entrance to each of the sleeping chambers.

The floor is lightly polished to a dull sheen that reflects a cold luminescence from the late November afternoon sunlight. Apparently random numbers are inscribed in script on each threshold.

The Architect removes his shoes and walks barefoot across the floor. Vessels containing glues and potions are piled high in anticipation.

24T et T42

2007-11-19T09:19:00.000Z

The rudimentary elements of a kitchen are beginning to take shape on the first floor.

A trivial everyday act taken for granted, under current circumstances becomes a milestone on the road to practical completion. Of course, if this was a building site in the UK, the house would have already witnessed countless thousands of cups of tea. But, this being France, tea is definitely not a drink for workmen - you've more chance of seeing a labourer arriving on site with a pink cashmere scarf and a handbag than indulging in a mug of PG Tips.

The Client and The Architect have been drinking tea on site before. Here, enormous thanks is due to the never ending generous supply offered over the garden wall by The English Neighbour. But, these two cups, amidst dust and in near sub zero temperatures (heating not up and running before tuesday), are the first two cups of tea made in the Maison Camy.

GENERAL PROGRESS REPORT

Mario deserved the superlative and did a fine job on the bathroom tiling. This week is The Plumbers final fix, next week sees the flooring contractor and the week after is, cross fingers, D day.

This weekend The Portuguese Neighbour gave an enormous hand with the decoration, plastering walls as if icing one of his marvelous gateaux. The Client spent the weekend as gofer, delighting the salesmen at the local DIY superstore with her ignorance of the things she was required to find; une cloche de 35; molly de 8mm, bulle pour juge de paix; graisse de coude....etc.

Tout ce qu'il te faut pour bander

2007-11-09T14:35:00.001Z

Mario turned up again this morning. Unaccompanied by The Builder this time, communication proved difficult. The Architect trying feebly to make his French sound Portuguese by adding slushy bits at the end of every word. Tomorrow The Client has been promised a team for the plasterboard jointing. If things carry on at this rate she will be in for Xmas.

(Please note in the above photo the sacrificial item of clothing always left on site by builders as a decoy to make you think they're coming back - in fact they are such a necessary part of a builders kit that you can now buy them at PointP shrinkwrapped in lots of a hundred - 'decoy plaster stained clothing' )

The work surface / plan vasque for the bathroom is onto the second edition. We're having trouble with air bubbles. We've tried everything - vibrating the formwork, plasticisers, additives.....we've even considered resorting to the ancient roman method of adding blood, any volunteers? only Christians need apply.
So, it looks like we'll change direction, use the concrete form as a solid base for a glass mosaic. Well at least that's The Architects idea. The Client isn't all that keen on mosaic, she really prefers the black concrete. Being married to an architect all this time has seriously affected her colour sensibility.

A screed has been laid to form a base for the kitchen units. The circulation finish will be the parquet continued through from the adjacent living room.

Landscape

2007-11-08T09:07:00.000Z

The tiler turned up. Mario he's called. The Builder did all the talking. Mainly to cover up a distinct lack of the local lingo on the part of Mario. We'll find out later if he merits the superlative first name of the legendary plumber.

In the meantime a bit of blatant publicity for someone who does merit a superlative. Stephen Yardley, artist and very good friend of The Architect and The Client, is exposing his work in The Long Gallery in Stroud, Gloucestershire. The exhibition opens on the 11th of December and runs up until Xmas.
The theme of Stephens work is landscape. Tending more and more towards the abstract his work captures the essence of the British countryside. He divides his time between Wales his home, and France where he has recently acquired a little property. (somewhere between Paris and Biarritz). I'm sure the French countryside will inspire the same genius in his work.

Sautant Jacques eclair c'est un prout, prout, prout!*

2007-11-07T14:56:00.000Z

That much closer to being habitable everyday, the Maison Camy has just had the gas turned on. Yes that's a well earned second place for the Gas company. Shame on you Telecom.

Tomorrow The Builder, harassed out of his hibernation by a fuse blowing architect, will turn up with the tiler and someone to finish the plasterboard. This in turn will allow The Plumber to fix the bathroom fittings and fire up the boiler and the flooring contractor to lay the linoleum on the second floor (providing The Client gets all the decoration done in two weekends).

The Client is so close she can almost smell the dust and drying paint.

*merci à pqh pour la traduction Canadienne des 'Rolling Stones'

keep me hanging on the telephone

2007-10-31T15:15:00.000Z

Meeting with Telecom - he was 25 minutes (3 months and 25 minutes) late. The good news it costs us nothing to be connected. The bad news, because there is a terribly tiny hole to be made in the pavement it looks like we'll have to wait until January 2008.

PScriptum

2007-10-30T15:13:00.000Z

This is the X files? I push the blogger publish button and the phone rings - Telecom - I have a site meeting with a technician tomorrow.
Thank you Gaudi

Hanging on the telephone

2007-10-30T14:23:00.000Z

The ray of hope for The Client has been dashed by The Builder going off on holiday again. But, on the bright side The Architect has found a little wheel to go on the end of the gates. For a little wheel it's pretty tough. It can take easily up to 200Kg - which would make it a strong contender if you were ever considering making a pair (make that two) of roller skates for an elephant.

Whilst we're on the subject of elephants on roller skates I thought I'd just mention the winners in the utility company stakes - the ongoing race/struggle to connect The Maison Camy to the outside world by means of pipes tubes and câbles.

Outright winners for sheer efficiency, punctuality, simplicity, customer service and politeness are the Water Board - a round of applause for the Water Board (if you're wondering, it begins with a V and sounds a bit like the latin word for something you might catch in a changing room). Mind you, at at around 800 euros for the connection you expect at least a smidgen of service.

Second in line, but unfortunately no prize yet as they haven't crossed the finishing line, the Gas Company - come on guys you can do it! just a meter away from a bronze (a gas meter that is). Despite a little fuzziness in their customer relations due to a severe attack of privatisation they are getting things done. Holes have been dug.

Third place is waiting for the Telecom people. Waiting being the operative word. Telecom has been on the go for some three months now and still no sign of an appointment with a real human. I have in the meantime developed a habit. I am now a registered Call Centre Junky. If I don't get my fix of at least an hour listening to pre recorded messages or badly rehearsed how to deal with angry caller scenarios I'm screwed for the rest of the day. Today I got through to a technician. Someone who knew his twisted copper pair from his coaxial. It was like a revelation. Like talking to God. He told me everything was going to be alright. He promised me at least an 8Mb connection, who knows maybe 20?. He promised me someone would call back in 5 days. Funny, I seem to remember someone telling me that 3 months ago.............hey, there goes an elephant on roller skates !

Home straight

2007-10-25T13:50:00.000Z

Thank you MOA TOA and mdw for waking The Architect from his blog hibernation.

It's now over a month since the last entry. This is due to a severe lack of builder. Things have been heating up this last week - the electrical wiring is practically finished, the gas board have been digging in the road and finally, at long last the steel stair, railings and gates have arrived from deepest darkest Auvergne.
The stair is simple and elegant and will be finished with wooden treads at a later date. The railings have been put together with precision, needing only 16mm of adjustment at one extremity to allow for the neighbours stone column.

The gates however are still a problem. The weight of a single panel was too much for the bolts fixing the intermediate column to the concrete threshold. On swinging the gate fully open the concrete foundation started to crack. The solution consists of adding a roller to the end of each of the gates to take the weight off of the column. This will require a level quarter circle rolling track set into the paving of the front courtyard.

The light grey finish is the protective metallic primer applied in the factory. The fence now needs painting. This will be a job for The Client.

The list of works still left to do is long but there is a ray of hope that The Client will soon be in her house
.

Urban Sculpture

2007-09-20T11:50:00.001Z

Completely off the subject. I couldn't help but notice that a nearby suburb, inspired by the innovative city of Bilbao, has installed in front of the railway station, what seems to be a Jeff Koons sculpture of cousin Itt.

Plan vasque en béton

2007-09-17T07:49:00.000Z

The formwork just before pouring the concrete. The Client decided the concrete was to be black. As black as possible, so she tipped the whole jar of colouring powder into the mix (enough for 7 times as much concrete). The Architect now has a black right hand and luckily escaped having a permanently stained black face.

Curly bits in the Auvergne

2007-09-14T10:51:00.000Z

The visit to the steelworkers atelier in the Auvergne was well worth the 600 km. The atelier is in a tiny village of no more than 50 inhabitants situated in the extreme north of the Auvergne region. The company has a very large set of gates proudly displayed in front of the atelier, worthy of the entrance to Versailles with lots of knobs and curly bits (really not to The Architects particular taste but impressive all the same) and in stark contrast to the industrial construction of the atelier. The gates show off, to passers by, their prowess at twisting metal into all sorts of complicated twists and turns and swan like forms etc. Despite this this innate 'savoir faire' they have managed to build the 'minimalist rectilinear gates of my design with absolutely no curly bits. Well nearly, just one tiny little curly bit.......the floor bolt that locks the gate has a Shepherds crook top to it - it was so cute that I've decided to keep it. How magnanimous of me. Despite the risk of being called Post Modern. Brave too.

I arrived at around midday, so, after the serious business of 'déjeuner' being taken care of in the nearby Auberge we got down to the less serious task of working out what to do with the structural disaster of the steel gates. After lots of cogitation a simple solution was decided on that should do the job and stiffen the structure with the addition of the least possible steel.

C'est qui?....C'est le plombier! (et l'électricien)

2007-09-12T13:58:00.000Z

Due to popular demand a quick September update. The plumber has arrived at long last and is making up for his sporadic fleeting appearances. Boilers, baths, waste pipes, radiators etc. everything is going in at the same time.
This is great news, everything would be hunky dory if it wasn't for the fact that The (bloody) Builder is now gracing another site with his presence rather than ours - jilted that's what we are!
He has very little left do do, but I get the distinct impression it's going to be like getting blood out of a stone (or port out of a box of ceramic tiles).

The Architect has decided (always strikes fear into The Client's heart when she hears that one) that he will contribute something of his own creation, that is, something made with his very own hands. A little in the style of Grand Designs - a bit of decking from Kevin?. No, not decking again - the bathroom will be graced with a plan vasque in concrete.

This is very brave of The Architect to announce this before attacking the oeuvre. It of course demands that the enterprise is a success. A lot of research has gone into the preparation...watch this space for more details.

Other news...oh yes, the gates and fence. The Architect's steel gates are drooping. To much minimalism and not enough sound structural thinking. Which means that The Architect has to visit the workshop in deepest darkest France to sort out some sort of solution that doesn't turn minimalism in to major disaster. I'm not going to post any photos as all you smart alecs out there will be posting messages to explain the correct principles of structural bracing. So you could say things are going pear shaped......?

One for the skater

2007-08-30T15:15:00.000Z

The holidays are over. In the warm up to works getting underway again, this one is for The Skater He didn't waste any time when the purple flag was flying over the spot. Avoiding toxic runoff with a few grinds in the local bowl.

A small interlude follows.....

2007-08-06T13:40:00.000Z

A small interlude will follow in the time honoured tradition of the BBC potters wheel.

The Skater has decided to make a contribution to the future interior decoration and furnishing of the Maison Camy. He has built himself a table out of used skateboards. It will be a central feature in his room and is destined to support various pieces of electronic apparatus that keep him and his friends mesmorised for hours on end. Wind tunnel testing of the table unfortunately showed that glasses, cups of tea and beakers filled with orange juice have to be balanced at strategic points if they are not to slide off the edge skateboard style. Despite technical teething problems, The Skater is now, if anyone is interested, taking orders. Only problem is the delayed delivery. Customers have to pay for a brand new skateboard and then wait for their furniture whilst The Skater custom 'wears out' the boards - a little like those false antique country kitchen sideboards that get attacked with bicycle chains to give them that authentic feel.

Normal service will be resumed when the builders return from Portugal.

Mon Oncle

2007-07-19T10:26:00.000Z

Sneaking a look from the neighbours window reveals a different aspect to the house. Apparently the glazed façade now gives them a hitherto unseen sunset by reflection. Can’t say I’ve heard them singing in the evening like the canary in ‘Mon Oncle’.

The garden wall in recuperated stone from the old Maison Camy, is now crowned with a generous ‘chapeau’ in white concrete. The wall will become a garden seat.

FST (French Summer Time)

2007-07-12T10:35:00.000Z

In France, both July and September have six working weeks. August has zero working weeks. The talk is of holidays. We still have builders on site. How much longer that will last is impossible to say. Given the recent speeding up of works and the expressed intention to work on Saturday I suspect the ’grand départ’ is imminent.

The Architect has opted for a dry lining on metal frame. This simplifies the work of of the electrician and makes any future wiring a lot easier. It also avoids cutting into the brickwork and reducing the insulating capacity of the wall.

It’s time to take a last look at the second floor as one large open space. The partitions will go in tomorrow, dividing the space up into three bedrooms. The Architect has designed two of the bedrooms to open completely onto the corridor and the large glazed façade. The corridor will thus become a winter garden and an extension of the bedroom volume. With this flexibility of use the Maison Camy has no surface area wasted in circulation.

Due to the extremely late arrival of the steel stair, ‘sometime in September’ a temporary stair will be required to fill the gap The Architect has designed one in timber and now needs someone qualified to build it. Thank you to those coolheaded colleagues who don't have their noses up against the problem.

Quick update

2007-07-05T10:41:00.000Z

The roof is 95 percent complete. Just the edge details left to sort out. The large window at the rear is being installed as I write. Wiring has started. Everybody except the metalwork contractor is pulling their weight. We still have no date for the steel stair and front railings. It's looking very likely that the house will be finished without a stair. This is not good news as The Client is not very happy when climbing ladders. Still, I'm sure that with a bit of practice she'll be up and down the ladder like a ships boy in the rigging.

Zinc roof

2007-06-28T10:05:00.000Z

Nearly weather tight. Yesterday 10 guys on site. Disappointing that the site today, was like a set for the film 'Marie Celeste'. No silverware on the table, just two plastic cups and half a baguette. Tools lying abandoned on the floor. Maybe they've been kidnapped by aliens? The Client assures me that NOBODY is kidnapped by aliens in France. 'That sort of thing' she assures me, 'NEVER happens here'.

Front windows

2007-06-27T12:43:00.001Z

Insulation and wood will hide the bricks and the shiny 'pré-cadre'. In theory the last of the windows - the large garden window will arrive next week. Then we will be watertight and the real fun can start with electrics, plumbing, dry walling and of course the steel stair installation.

Benoit Pimont

2007-06-26T17:28:00.000Z

Brassica oleracea

2007-06-22T17:50:00.000Z

The Builders (masons) were getting towards the end of their work and things were starting to get a bit fraught on site. Jobs were hurried along and tempers were frayed. As one says in French, I shouted at them like rotten fish. In return for which I was presented with a cabbage; not as you might expect, another strange expression translated directly from the French, but a real live Brassica oleracea - feeling humble and undeserving I accepted the spherical peace offering. The cabbage was from the garden of the mason, somewhere in the outer suburbs. Freshly picked (harvested, uprooted?) that morning.
With butter and black pepper, that evening, it was the best cabbage I'd eaten in a long time. Things are going better now. The windows have arrived, the drains are going in, the roof is advancing, the garden wall was started this morning. Mind you, there's quite a lot of wind to deal with.

A house on the shore

2007-06-18T11:06:00.000Z

Architects draw lines for a living.

Two of the lines drawn in the Maison Camy are etched into the concrete at specific heights above mean sea level. They are flood levels from the nearby river. These lines are my personal benchmarks for measuring the effect of global warming on people. I am not alone. Other people are drawing similar lines.

Wouldn't it be nice to have a house on the shore?

Meanwhile, back on site, rain stops play, or at least slows it down a little.

Topping out

2007-06-09T15:31:00.000Z

The carpenter tells of a tradition where one of the highest rafters is left at its uncut length. If the client doesn’t pay for a round of drinks at the end of the job then the carpenter leaves the site, with the offending timber still left protruding. In other words, sort it out yourself before the roofer turns up. The mason has an equivalent anecdote involving a heap of concrete strategically left to harden on the threshold.

So with a pre-emptive strike, The Client and The Architect have opted for a barbecue and a topping out ceremony.

The far less conflict inducing topping out formula, as understood by The Architect, involves a branch of oak being tied to the topmost timber. The ‘bad spirits’ are chased, by all the noise and raucousness of the celebration, up through the house taking ultimate refuge in the branch. At the end of the ceremony the branch is taken down and burnt leaving the house free of bad vibes.

Problem is, finding an oak tree in a suburban neighbourhood. People aren’t stupid. They don’t plant oak trees in small gardens. So a visit to the local park is in order. Unfortunately the only specimen to be found has been severely pruned leaving the lowest branches unattainable at 5metres above ground level. Notwithstanding the risk of finding himself spending the night in a police cell for tree molesting, the chances of succeeding in persuading the park groundsman to help out with a ladder on the basis of a desperate need of oak for a pagan druid ceremony seemed so very slim that The Architect didn’t even bother.

Meanwhile The Portuguese Neighbour had undertaken to prepare the food for the evening. Panic had set in and with less than an hour to go he was still cooking. An ambitious ‘pièce montée’ in the shape of the 'Maison Camy' was resisting all attempts to stick on the roof with caramel glue. Jam render and crystallised sugar pebble dash were applied to the roof successfully hiding a large gaping crack in the biscuit pastry structure. In the midst of this culinary construction site, The Architect explained his quest for oak only to be told authoritatively that identical results could be achieved with a branch of laurel – apparently the tree of choice for such matters in Portugal. Saved. The wisely chosen Portuguese theme had come to the rescue.

Fearing unknown negative spell effects from a badly identified tree shrub or bush (oak’s an easy one) The Architect opted for the joker and placed a call to The Landscape Architect who obligingly returned home to prune a bunch from her garden.

Later that evening, everyone, and especially The Skater, took great delight in pointing out to The Architect the presence of a 12 foot high laurel at the bottom of the 'Maison Camy' garden – curiously the only plant on site to survive The Builders blitzkrieg style demolition.

Shame on The Architect.

All went well – food included:

Vinho Verde
acras de morue
barbecued marinated sardines
Pork ribs
Lupin seeds
Olives
Various cakes including a Maison Camy shaped choux pastry gateaux

The neighbours and builders and family and friends succeeded in raising the noise level needed.
The Maison Camy is now well and truly celebrated.

Le charpentier raconte la tradition de laisser un des bois de charpente du faîtage en dépassement du volume de la toiture. Si, à la fin de l’intervention du charpentier, le maître d’ouvrage n’as pas encore payé à boire aux ouvriers il quitte le chantier sans tailler le bois aux mesures de la maison. Le maçon à son tour, pour les mêmes motifs de soif, prévoit un tas de béton sur le seuil de la maison.

Nous avons opté pour une solution moins conflictuelle. Une branche de laurier est accrochée au point le plus haut de la charpente. Les mauvais esprits en fuyant le bruit des célébrations vers le haut de la maison se trouvent piégés dans la branche. A la fin des célébrations la branche est brûlée n’assurant que des bonnes vibrations au lieu.

Un grand remerciement aux voisins, amis et constructeurs qui ont participé à l’événement.

Squeaky clean for the chippies

2007-06-05T08:12:00.001Z

Topping out

2007-06-04T16:19:00.000Z

The masonry is practically finished with only the last lift of the textured concrete wall remaining to be done. The main timber rafters as well as the secondary timbers have arrived on site. All is ready for the roof to go up. This is good news as a topping out ceremony has been organised and it would have been slightly embarrassing not to have a top to top out.

In France the event is celebrated with a 'gigot bitume' which consists of cooking a large joint of lamb (please forgive The Architect any technical errors concerning meat as he is vegetarian) by immersing it in a cauldron of hot asphalt. The result (according to carnivores having partaken) is quite surprisingly good and does not taste, as one would expect, of asphalt. The water and airtight nature of the cooking process means that all the 'jus de cuisson' are sealed in keeping a maximum of the flavour.

Our roof is in zinc so there is no cauldron of steaming asphalt to do the job. As a substitute a selection of 'amuse geules' on a Portuguese theme will do the trick.

Et voila, pour les lecteurs français, on annonce le fin des Gros Oeuvres avec le début de la pose de la charpente bois de la toiture. Un gigot bitume (sans gigot et sans bitume) est en cours d'organisation pour marquer l'occasion.

Casa Em Arruda dos Vinhos

2007-05-26T17:33:00.000Z

A little hors sujet to fill in whilst awaiting the first 'charpente'. A little plug for a blog recommended to me by a Portugese architect whose current hobbies include target practice with a 'sarbacane' or blowpipe. This fact has no relevance to the subject of the blog in question but serves as a useful warning to anyone brave enough to venture out into the streets of the 20th 'arrondissement' of Paris. Beware, apparently, small darts tipped in a poison paste mixed from the sap of plane trees and dried pigeon shit are being used to great effect for culling the local Bobo population.
Casa Em Arruda dos Vinhos tells the story of house project situated in an idyllic wine growing region. In the words of the man who has commissioned the house, Rui Pedro Lérias;

This projects deals with the reconstruction of a small building in ruins in an area classified as green belt. The project uses the same materials of the ruined building (stone, earth and wood) but re-ordered: a wood structure filled with local earth (wattle and daub); the stone coming from the demolition will be used in the foundations and surrounding area.
Otherwise, the architects associated natural materials (wood, earth and cork panels) with industrial ones (concrete, metal, glass and polycarbonate).

The experimental configuration of traditional materials suggests adventurous architects and a courageous client. They are both to be applauded and encouraged. As for blowpipes - I will not be plugging the youtube video link. Small children might be reading.

Window

2007-05-25T07:57:00.000Z

Window negative on final lift for textured concrete stair wall.

Put up a façade

2007-05-21T07:57:00.000Z

Before and after.
If you're going to love your house you've got to love it in the morning without makeup.

Ugly ducklings and cranes

2007-05-20T10:07:00.000Z

We are entering the ugly duckling phase of the project. The bare clay blocks and gaping holes that will be the windows, are remarkably ugly, and it will be some time before the timber cladding and insulation finish the job off as The Architect intended.

The masonry is coming to completion and we have entered into a negociation with the roofing contractor over the nature of the roof structure. The original design consisted of three main rafters in steel and a secondary structure of purlins in either timber or steel 'Z' sections. The steel seems to be problematic because of the weight and the necessity of involving a crane. The roofer has suggested a timber solution for the main rafters using a product that consists of a vertical laminated beam 'Kerto'.

The beam would be much lighter than the steel solution but deeper by a factor of 1.7. Being the amenable guy that he is, The Architect is redrawing all the sections and details to take into account the new rafter depth.

In the meantime, thanks to the input from The English Neighbour, we are being kept up to date on local popular opinion. There is nothing like a building site for livening up the evening stroll with dog and significant other. Various comments are overheard, the most common concerning the diminutive size of the windows that give onto the street. The Client is now worried that it will be dark and dingy inside, despite the large openings at the rear of the house. Who should she trust, Monsieur Dupont with his Rotveiler or a building professional with 25 years experience?

Le pont

2007-05-08T15:35:00.000Z

Back on subject again. Yesterday the second floor slab was poured. The electricity conduits and central heating network were integrated into the structure so we had the pleasure of the first visit from The Plumber. Activity is intense as opportunities to work in May are few and far between. This year the bank holidays, which in France, unlike the UK, are not conveniently magnetised to the nearest Monday, fall on Tuesdays and Thursdays. And there are a lot of them. Wars, religious happenings and workers spring rites are all celebrated in the month of May. This gives rise to the traditional spring pass time known as faire le pont. Simply translated this means bridging between weekends and bank holidays using a judiciously placed day off work to give yourself an extremely long weekend. The Builder, who confides in me that all this means he is loosing even more money on the job, has an apposite comment on the subject:

'Sarko's going to change all that. Soon, there will be no more ponts for the French'.

I'm pretty sure he was joking. What is true, is that everyone has their own very particular idea of what the next 5 years has in store.

Croft 3

2007-05-06T15:36:00.000Z

In the style of giving it all up and dropping out of society, two work colleagues decide to continue their globe trotting careers in a croft in a far flung corner of bonnie Scotland. More braving Scotland than 'Scotland the Brave', their new life must seem a million miles from urban France. Undaunted by the rigours of Highland life they have embarked upon building an extension - now that really is brave.
With such a multitude of media stories on families from middle England giving up fluff job careers to buy abandoned garlic farms in La Creuse it's good to know that someone's going in the opposite direction. The blog is called :

3 and 1/2 of 4...and a bit more

I presume this is a reference to the renaissance of algorithm generated organic forms in current cutting edge architectural projects.....
Anyways here's wishing you good luck.

Footnote:
On seeing the above photo The Client, for whom anywhere that doesn't have a handy 6 lane motorway and large expanses of concrete and asphalt conjures up images of dueling banjos, simply said 'how far is the nearest hospital?'.

God and Gaudi

2007-04-27T13:24:00.000Z

Q. What's the difference between God and an architect?
A. God doesn't think he's an architect.....

It's a first for Architecture and merits a little 'hors sujet' of its own:
Up until now the only patron saint remotely useful to architects was Saint Jude. Now it seems we're going to have our very own saint in the form of Antonio Gaudi, or God's architect as he is sometimes referred to in Spain. Apparently he's being canonised at this very moment. According to the Vatican it's not so much for his miracles but for his willingness to answer prayers. This is surprising as most of what your every day run of the mill architect does for his/her client is very much on a par with miracles. I'm damn sure Gaudi wasn't an exception. Despite not being of that persuasion I'm all in favour of this patron saint business. In fact I think the church should take it all the way. What about a few relics?

The Holy Rotring of Barcelona
The Holy Tryptich
(you know how it goes - three A0 drawings on featherlight board with plans elevations and full colour perspectives for monday morning)

Any other ideas will be welcome. Leave a comment

By the way, if the The Client reads this, she shouldn't worry, her house will not take anywhere near as long to build as the Sagradia Familia, but then again if she wants to light a candle.......?

We have blocks.....therefore we are not blocked

2007-04-27T09:29:00.000Z

The blocks have arrived. Which means we are back on the road again with a vengeance. More on the subject soon.

'Y compris les retards'

2007-04-24T11:31:00.000Z

We are officially 3 and a half weeks late. The Client wonders why I haven't announced this before, 'The last time I asked, you said we were on time. What's happened since?' Carefully stepping back in anticipation of a possible blow to the head I reply 'Three and a half weeks have happened'.

The Builder is quick. He has the reputation of having built a three storey house in 3 months. In the absence of the right building materials however, his lightening speed and efficiency are useless. The blocks that caused so much existential angst to The Engineer in an earlier phase of the project are now the source of client angst.
They weren't ordered on time. The delivery period was 8 days. That soon stretched into two then three weeks. They were supposed to have arrived this morning. Now apparently they're coming on Thursday. As they are manufactured in the east maybe the delivery is by camel?

In the mean time a garden wall has been built once, demolished once and been built again. We've had a spring clean and most of the 'dark matter' has been removed from the back garden. So all is not lost.

Next time I see The Client I'll casually mention the merits of life in a camper van.

Trailing edge of technology

2007-04-18T14:06:00.000Z

Apparently building a Lamborghini involves craftsmen repeatedly hitting sheet metal with large wooden mallets.
This is a comforting thought and helps lighten my recurring sentiment of being, despite my desires, at the trailing edge of technology.
My 'Lamborghini' was, a staircase in steel with an elaborate structural concept involving cantilevered treads, reconstituted steel profiles, triangular frames and sophisticated calculations. Due to budgetary considerations the Italian custom job now resembles a reasonably priced pacific rim family runabout.

Howard Roarke was here!
(with his purpose made rubber stamp 'NOT BUILT').

The Client will now descend elegantly (in evening gown) a stair consisting of two stringers and flat metal welded treads. We are talking the simple and plain here, an archetypal stair. Maybe I should forget technology and start talking about minimalism.

Whatever. The steel stair should be arriving in the Spring (the big unit of temporal precision on a small job in France is a Saison or Trimestre - smaller increments are measured in Ponts*).
In the meantime the ground floor stair is being built. Now here, we are definitely not on the leading edge of technology, we're attached by baler twine being dragged a good distance behind.
The physical realities of the average construction site don't seem to have changed in hundreds, maybe thousands of years. Mixing stuff in buckets hitting things with hammers.......minimalism?

*The 'Pont' will be explained to the non French reader next month, when it will inevitably become a major theme.

Easter Vandals

2007-04-12T13:17:00.001Z

Vandals have been on the site. They took down the formwork from the textured wall and decided to take out the timber inserts that formed the openings. They must have attacked the first one from behind and forced it out through the front of the wall - it blew a big chunk of the textured concrete off. Seeing the damage caused obviously incited them to have a go at the second opening in the same way. Likewise the front face of the textured concrete was damaged.

According to the English Neighbour the vandals bore a remarkably uncanny likeness to the builders.

The Skater accused The Architect of not doing his job properly. He reckons that The Architect should be on site more often to stop this sort of thing happening. He's not happy. He thinks The Architect is loosing his grip of the situation.

The site is now empty. Maybe the vandals are too shameful to come back. Maybe they are off for an Easter break. They certainly aren't answering their phones. The Architect only manages to reach overloaded answering machines with multi track pre-recorded messages subtly mixing grunts and noises of small children doing unimaginable things. The Architect is considering spending all his waking hours on site. A live blog. A blow by blow account.

Full moon rising

2007-04-04T16:11:00.000Z

The Architect doesn’t sleep well when the moon is full. Agitated and restless he turns and turns. Despite an early night, the full oblivion of sleep never really comes. At 5.30 am, lying awake in bed, he makes a virtual tour of the site. After having made the rounds at least 36 times the roaming somnolent self seems to be homing in on one particular spot. Why?

The unconscious has obviously spotted something and is tapping annoyingly on the thin dividing partition between dream and reality.

At last with an awakening ‘lightbulb hovering above head’ style flash – a picture of the open formwork on the first floor comes into focus – no horizontal slot opening between kitchen and living room.

On site at 8. Not too late. Caught in time. Sigh of relief.

He gives a big thank you to the full moon and absent mindedly wonders why there’s one less workman on site and how the hot shower still hasn’t managed to shift the dried blood and earth from under his finger nails.

First floor slab

2007-03-29T11:34:00.000Z

Last minute preparations before the in transit mixer arrives.

Coupled up like two insects involved in a courting ritual. Ready to pump.

It's not working. Nothings coming out.

Nothing. Maybe he forget the concrete. The driver does not appreciate the comment.

Only one thing to do. Russian technology, French technology, all the same....made in Taiwan. Bang!And again!
Here it comes.
Putting the rubber trunk back on.

We're away.

First floor formwork and other stuff

2007-03-23T10:40:00.000Z

Electron microscope image of spiraling subatomic particle entering a slab of silicon? No, it's a little spring that gets cast into the concrete to hold the insulation on the underside.
The formwork for the textured stair wall - this time on the right side of the wall!
Dark matter in the back yard
First floor formwork

What's holding it all up until the concrete hardens

Chaos and dark matter

2007-03-23T09:47:00.000Z

When you look up at the night sky 80% of what’s out there doesn’t shine. Astronomers and scientists around the world are hot on the trail of that missing 80%. There are multiple theories on what makes up the hidden mass of the universe. The missing bit has been christened ‘dark matter’.

In order to solve the riddle of what makes up this ‘dark matter’ you need a pretty big telescope and a particle accelerator. Particle accelerators are amongst the largest human constructions on earth (for the moment that is, rumours are that Sony are bringing out a pocket sized one next year). They consist of a huge ring tunnel, burrowing under the countryside, packed full of electromagnets and sensitive equipment for investigating the sub atomic bits and pieces that make up the world. It takes a lot of money, and a long time, to build a particle accelerator. Huge open ended budgets and some pretty frightening electricity bills are involved.
It strikes me that the scientists would have saved themselves an awful lot of money and time, if they’d have visited the site whilst the particle accelerator was under construction. Anyone that has ever demolished a wall will know where the unseen dark matter in the universe comes from.
The Builders trial and error method of pouring concrete is having a ‘dark matter’ style effect on the rear garden. Careful measurement involving buckets and weighing apparatus will undoubtedly show a correlation between evidence on site and astronomical data from observations of the universe.

For every 20% of what’s being built, there’s a corresponding 80% of mayhem in the back yard.

If god was an architect then ‘dark matter’ is builders rubble. And no, I’m not a creationist.

'Don't close the formwork until I've inspected it'

2007-03-21T18:29:00.000Z

So of course they built and closed the formwork and poured the concrete for the stair wall without me seeing it first.

The textured concrete was perfect, the grain of the timber in sharp relief, the narrow slit opening in exactly the right position. It must have been vibrated to within an inch of its life there was not an air bubble to be seen. Perfect concrete. Perfect

The only problem?

The texture was on the wrong side of the wall.

In his head The Architect was curled up in the corner of the garage, sobbing and gnawing at his clenched fist. Not even a post disaster cup of tea from The English Neighbour could stop the pain.

No photos please.

Sample panel

2007-03-14T18:33:00.000Z

Sample panel poured this evening. Just like cake mix in a tin, or as I'm expected to say being a Brit living in France, like jelly in a mould.

Textured concrete stair wall

2007-03-14T12:34:00.000Z

The ground floor walls are practically complete awaiting the formwork for the first floor slab. Whilst that gets underway there will be time to attack the main stair wall that unites each floor of the house. The wall will be cast insitu concrete with an exposed timber plank texture. Given the recent disastrous pouring of the ground floor walls (one panel has been demolished twice) The Architect is just a wee bit apprehensive and has asked for a sample panel to be poured for approval before giving the go ahead.

The inside of the formwork, for the wall, will be built up of roughly sawn 10cm wide planks which will imprint their texture onto the concrete surface.

The main stair wall will be a physical witness to the birth pains of the project. The two known major flood levels of the nearby river will be forever marked by horizontal hollow joints. At some future unknown but inevitable date, someone will watch the murky waters rising up the stairwell and comment on the foresightedness of The Architect in providing such a handy benchmark, ‘look darling, we’re almost at the same level as in 1910!’.

The Client has not passed comment on this element of the project. In her opinion all of the British, and especially the English, are eccentric at least once a day. She is reserving her judgement for the finished work.

Concrete coco pops

2007-03-09T09:38:00.000Z

The true extent of the disaster is revealed the following morning. The worst will be demolished and rebuilt. At least the demolition is not too difficult when the concrete is still 'green'.

The in situ tailor made timber formwork was no match for the speed and pressure of the in transit mixer and pump.

A report from the scene of the disaster

2007-03-08T11:10:00.000Z

The Architect arrived on site as the builders were clearing up. Large quantities of unused and still liquid concrete were being scraped of the ground floor slab and into the garden.
Apparently the pressure from the concrete pump combined with a neglected corner of the timber formwork had proved disastrous for the middle wall. The form had ruptured at the base spilling its contents into the gulley between the site hut and the façade. Hasty repairs had followed and a second attempt to pour the concrete had been successful.

Such an event will obviously have repercussions on the quality of the concrete. The ground floor walls are all to be left with the concrete exposed, so the quality of the surface is paramount. With all the efforts to mitigate the disaster it is certain that some of the essential tasks like vibrating the concrete to ensure there are no air pockets, will have been neglected. The formwork will be taken down to expose the finished walls in one or two days. The true extent of the disaster will only then be visible. The Architect is holding his breath.

First wall

2007-02-26T13:25:00.000Z

The first wall goes up. The ground floor party wall to the north of the house.

With the ground floor poured The Skater can now really start to imagine the space he will inhabit.

A role play game with an imaginary staircase.

'I'm now walking up the stairs and I turn the corner into my bedroom'.

(Tubular formwork for the rear façade column)

He examines carefully all of the forms and changes of level in the concrete asking pointed questions in an effort to understand the finished project. His motives are revealed when delicately he asks the question as to wether the corners and edges, along which a skateboard could slide, will stay.

Hidden from memory

2007-02-22T09:32:00.000Z

The Client visited the site on Sunday. A perfume of barbecue accompanied her visit. In T-shirts, some of the local population were out and about in their gardens, sneaking in a positive Global Warming opportunity to grill a few endangered species.

The ground floor slab has been poured. Only the starter bars mark where the future walls will be. With the next stage The Architect can start to forget the overwhelming extravaganza of concrete and steel that the The Engineer and the Soil Consultant deemed necessary to stop The Clients modest house sinking forever without trace into the alluvail deposits of the nearby river. Hidden from memory below the ground it will stay, until, as The Builder so eloquently puts it 'Some poor sod decides to demolish it in a hundred years time!'

Archeoligists examining the ruins will assume from their calculations that a building of at least ten storeys dominated the surrounding primitive settlement......a lighthouse? a fire station? a folly?

Ground floor slabs and garages

2007-02-15T12:35:00.000Z

Yesterday it rained and the site was closed. Today the ground floor is being prepared. A proprietry system, consisting of precast joists and polystyrene filler blocks, spans the 5 metres between the two ground beams that mark the façade. Tomorrow afternoon the concrete will be poured to complete the floor structure for the entrance hall, the passage under the house and the garage.

The planning requirements stipulated that each new house must have a double garage. With the flood regulation a garage is the only use allowed for the ground floor. So there we have it, a ground floor almost entirely devoted to the car (and one or two bicycles).

The Client will be the proud owner of a double garage she doesn't need. She has a car, for which she has very little respect, considering it a heap of metal and a liability. As far as she is concerned the car can stay outside on the pavement. Bringing a car in out of the rain, in her eyes, is very probably seen as a sign of anal retention.
You can oblige people to build off road parking in the suburbs but can you enforce their use? The popularity of a Mayor that installed parking meters in a suburban residential street would take a serious nose dive. So what is the purpose of obliging off road parking? Maybe I'm missing something - could it be that once you have built your obligatory double garage the ratable value of your house is increased and consequently you pay more tax. As this is the national sport I wouldn't be surprised. Maybe the offroad parking means you can have more room for planting trees in the street? Does the double garage incite the purchase of yet more cars. Anyone know the answer?

Regional variations

2007-02-09T10:13:00.000Z

Everything goes pear shaped. The Engineer is having kittens concerning the structure of the upperfloors. He wants to build the whole house in reinforced concrete.

Global Village does not apply when it comes to the most essential of building materials. Plasterboard is ubiqutous, glass is universal, but bricks and mortar and all the variations which come under the general heading of masonry, or, what in a nutshell, you use to build a wall, seem to be an issue of identity and regional pride. The preference runs deep and beyond the mere appearance of a material.
I have, apparently, chosen a building material that is used in abondance in Alsace and beyond but not here. In the eyes of The Engineer it is completely inappropriate for our region and will only lead to court cases and gnashing of teeth.
There's a pregnant silence as if I had suggesting we build an igloo on the Cote d’Azur. I have a flash of inspiration and for one brief moment consider suggesting that instead we use straw bales and rammed earth with hand applied cowpat render. The natural mistrust of french building engineers faced with whimsical architects would only have been compounded by my dose of british humour. I beat a hasty retreat and suggest that we meet with the manufacturer in order to iron out any misgivings he might have. As I hang up the phone I'm already mentally doing sums on the likely extent of the contractors reaction to building the house completely in reinforced concrete. Oh la la !