Rush rushery and a few ‘during’s.
Enter stage right, a small figure scuttling beyond the spotlight to slide a wrapped package unobtrusively onto the floor .
Greets, Ladles and Jellyspoons. I know! I’m late as the proverbial plate yet again, and this is my very last chance to slide a leetle sumsing in before most of the world shuts down tomorrow. Apols for going awols. You know the drill by now. You’ve read the headlines so many times before – “Struggling restorers sink into pits of black despair as more termite damage and cracked lintels are uncovered in inner Sydney Regency Wreck…” It being blogland and all, and moreover blogland approaching Christmas, I have been loathe to come and spread my glooms abaht the place. No Bah Humbuggery here!
But wait, because in amongst all the doom and gloom, in all the tearing of hair and gnashing of teeth (they are mere stumps I tell you), there has been the occasional sighting of that rare and lesser spotted beast – p.r.o.g.r.e.s.s. Which is serendipitous because I’ve received a few requests for during shots and I’m nothing if not attentive to requests (unless, of course, you require me to don tutu and dance the Nutcracker Suite, in which case I would have to demur in the cause of Public Order).
Tubby strictly honest I’ve also dawdled a bit because progress shots are so…well… incomplete somehow and every time Ive seen said piece of modest progress I’ve had the feeling that if I only waited another day or so those tiles may have been cleaned of grout to reveal their lustrous sheen, or the showers might have arrived. Or this or that or the other. But work has now stopped for the holidays and nothing will happen until the New Year, and so without further procrastination I offer up a few morsels for your delectation.
But because we’re in the act of flinging a few things into bags and scurrying up to the farm, I’ll spread them over a few days, if that’s permissible. Herewith, today’s little ration.
This unprepossessing little room was earmarked by HRH Princess Pimp as her bathroom:
She wanted it dark. And by gum she’s getting it dark:
Those tiles – they are tho thexy. The patch of light you can see to the left is the window in the pic above, which will be transformed into steel and glass doors onto a tiny Juliet Balcony from where, if you turn your head to the right, you’ll get an eyeful of the Harbour Bridge. This was granted us by the Powers That Be because there was once a balcony on the back bit of the house. Precedence – thou art a wondrous thing.
And while we’re on the subject of tiles, let me show you this place of unaccustomed glam, which is the en suite. The very en suite which, if you remember that far back, may never have come to pass. Which may have remained, if the purists had ruled the day, a mere twinkle in my eye as I hauled myself down four flights to use the bucket in the back garden.
This is it before:
We would have preferred to keep the wooden floor but here in Uh Straya such things are verboten. We bought the limestone tiles as a job lot for $50 a crate at a rather sad liquidation sale a couple of years ago. In the cause of full disclosure I should say sad for them, lustful for us.
Avec crazy bath and the fireplace stripped back to metal:
et the lav and basin:
These are the very tiles which are still smeared with dried grout and don’t yet reveal their shimmery glory, but here’s a patch that have been cleaned:
I must admit that when I first saw the bathrooms I was a little shocked. I feared we had imposed too much on the house and felt we should maybe have found a way to minimise our impact. But someone said the other night that they could still see the beauty of the rooms, even though they’ve been rendered functional, and I was glad to hear that.
So anyway. That’s the lot for today. I sit here in my pre-breakfast frowsiness on the unmade bed while the day outside gathers itself for a full-frontal furnace assault. I must up, up and away before the roads melt and become a shimmering mirage. Laters, potaters XX