Finishing touches

We are actually physically residing in our new house and now have our hands on a genuine (although "interim") Certificate of Occupancy - see?

I can tell you, there were times in the last couple of years when I doubted this would ever happen. And may I also say I am never, ever building another house. The process has been way more stressful and difficult than I remember it being on any of the three other new houses built at earlier times in my life. Is it just that I'm older and less confident? Or is it that there are so many more choices out there these days? (not good for the slightly OCD amongst us). Or is it that we were determined to correct all past housing shortcomings? Or that the Global Financial Crisis intervened between the 5 year plan inception and the 5 year plan completion? All of the above, I dare say. My sainted mother decided once she was ensconced in the Torrens house that this was it, she was never moving again. I get that now. I never did before, but now I do.

Notwithstanding the fact that we have moved in, work continues on finishing touches.

The concrete team was back on Friday to complete the driveway end bit (most of it will be gravel). Here the artist of the outfit is suspended precariously above the wet surface, creating those intersecting expansion joints you see on wide bits of concrete. He was muttering to himself about this (puff) being the most perfect (pant) cross bit (groan) you'll ever bloody see.

Meanwhile the other crew members were standing on the end bits of that long metal plank to hold them steady, being gently and politely supportive (not).

Another artist, Levi, the head of the painting team. Their attention to detail was impressive. I couldn't find anything to whinge about, I told them.  Overall the level of finish on the house is very pleasing. There's not an overabundance of work for tradespeople in this area and those who get the jobs work really hard. 

A few things we can do ourselves, such as peeling the sticky off the garage doors. That was fun actually.

We finished the study desk with Scandinavian Oil. Brought out the wood colour really well.

David constructed a home-made clothesline just like the one at Fadden, which was just like the one at Beverly Hills where he grew up, and just like the ones in my grandparents' gardens. Pre-dates the Hills Hoist.

It's a dog-rich neighbourhood, but we are not tempted. Mind you, Scrappy the builder's dog is a little charmer. The concreters asked that she be kept inside because she might run on the wet concrete. But in the end the only prints on that concrete turned out to be, guess what? Concreter's gum boot prints.

This morning, David and I decided to start a new routine of early morning bike rides to the beach before breakfast. It was like Pitt Street down there at 7am  A few other local fogies have the same idea and they all wander around in groups talking, joking, swimming, throwing things for their dogs. A few surfers as well. But it's delightful anyway, birds everywhere, the early light slanting on the beach. The mist coming off the waves.