The dust settles

We’re in the new house almost two weeks now, and I’m pleased to report that we’ve settled in quite quickly. Although Fliss has ended up with an epic bus journey to and from work, my commute has expanded only slightly in duration. Other than that, and the loss of a couple of rooms, the place feels very much like home already.

Initially I was kind of sad to wave farewell to the old joint, but focusing on the negatives, like the leaking roof and the fact it wasn’t ours, made it easier to hand back the keys and walk away for good. I think we’ll miss the neighbours more than anything else, as it was comforting having such nice people right next door to help us out in a fix, or mind the place while we were away.

Anyhow, as a wise man once said; onwards and upwards.

The new place is almost palatial in comparison to the old one, except in size. It’s warm once the heating is on, doesn’t have drafts, and the fact that it’s just that much more modern a house, with a decent size garden, makes it feel homely right away. Of course, there are things that bug us about it, such as the ticking noise from the central heating pipes, the noise all the assorted pumps make when it comes on in the morning, and the absence of a shower in the bathroom. Yet, anything that annoys pales into insignificance when compared to the satisfaction of owning our own home after so long.

I’m wondering if that nice feeling I get when I arrive home at night will wear off at some point, like a novelty toy. Fliss pointed out that it felt like being in a holiday home, for some reason, and although I cant quite put my finger on why, I agree with her.

Perhaps it’ll be stuff like the shower mixer exploding on me that will bring us back down to Earth with the reality that we’re responsible for paying for things like that now, rather than calling some estate agent to get it sorted. Even so, there’s no place quite like your own home. :o)

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The Way of the Exploding Shower Mixer

The new house lacks a shower, but has a shower mixer attachment fixed onto the bath taps. Although it’s not the kind of thing you can shower with, it is useful for rinsing yourself down after a bath or after washing your hair. That and chasing all the bubbles and hair out of the bath after it drains.

The water pressure, especially on the cold tap, is pretty darn fiesty. So it only takes about a quarter of a turn of the lever style tap to create quite a forceful jet of water from the shower. Previously I’d found it quite difficult to get a balance between hot and cold, as the cold pressure is so fierce that it seems to lord it over the hot water supply. However, before yesterday morning nothing had prepared me for the sudden and loud BANG from the mixer unit as I was hosing the bath down.

As anyone who has ever given me a fright will recall to their great satisfaction, when startled I go into Ninja Defence mode. This will usually include a reflex action that instantly distances me from the threat. This may or may not be accompanied by an involuntary vocal outburst on my part (read as “Squeal like a girl”). Depending on the information gathered to that point, I may already be in the process of launching a counter attack before I’ve actually landed from the evasive manoeuvre. Regardless, I’ll generally land in a semi-crouched position with my semi-lethal hands held blade-like in front of me, making clear to the attacker that the element of surprize is now lost and that I’m ready to participate in any further engagement.

In the case of the exploding shower mixer of danger, I managed to almost clear the toilet with my evasive leap, while at the same time releasing the shower like it was an electric eel that I’d wrongly assumed to be deceased, only for it to instantly come alive and discharge enough electricity to run a small village for a number of days. Although the first part of my Ninja Defence procedure had been executed to near perfection, I did only manage a half-hearted hands of death pose, due to my precarious landing position of one foot on/one foot behind the toilet.

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Thanks once more to Kieran, we’re watching the second series of 24 after he loaned us the box set. With this series, a few things have become apparent after only four episodes:

  • Ass pulls are now considered to be a fair and reasonable way to construct a plot. If you need a character to do something either completely out of character, or seemingly at odds to their continued wellbeing, have them do it anyway. It’s only tv after all.
  • Characters can and will refrain from explaining their circumstance fully, even when it may be to their great benifit to do so, solely to further complicate the plot.
  • No matter how dedicated a team of makeup artists are, if you are a pock-marked, acne-ridden individual, all the slap in the world isn’t going to hide it when that camera zooms in close. Just as well for Kim Bauer that she has big norks then, isn’t it?
  • If you are a cameraman, living in the Los Angeles area, who assumed their career to be over due to the onset of Parkinsons Disease, look no further than the production companies involved in the creation of 24 for your next paying gig. Evidence would suggest that the entire crew of camera operators has been assembled with the aid of a mailing list dedicated to people with the unfortunate affliction. Not only that, but stomach churning spasms are actively encouraged, whilst filming, in the somewhat misguided belief that it creates dramatic effect.

I’m sure more imparted wisdom will come to me as the season progresses. So far, though, it’s pretty good. ;o)

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