We got the keys on a Friday afternoon, top of the list was the bathroom (in the next post), next on the list was decorating. The hall was revolting, a long narrow corridor, hideously busy paper, weird pine panelled ceiling like a sauna, to be honest it's partly still like this, the reason will become apparent in just a moment. Next up was a front door, the half glazed door had to go, it was ugly, burglar friendly and old. We took a trip to Wickes with Ian's parents and bought a solid wood door the first Sunday we owned the flat. It was December, it was peeing down, the wind was horrendous, so naturally we decided that that evening was the perfect time to do some DIY.
I sat on the floor at one end of the hall stripping paper from the walls, while Ian was at the other ending planing the door. Just as the steamer loosened a chunk of plaster beneath the paper there was a gust of wind followed by a crash and a cry of "oh shit!". You see, Ian had leant the original front door against the opening and as he turned around the door fell backwards, the glass meeting the plane he'd been using, shattering everywhere. The new door wasn't ready to be fitted and wouldn't be ready until there was better light, the original door was creating something of a draught, a solution had to be found. Luckily we weren't overly enamoured with the built in wardrobes in the bedroom and so Ian set about sawing the doors up to board over the hole where the glass once was.
In the meantime, I sat on the floor knocking plaster off the walls and wondering what the hell I'd done. Here is the aftermath...
The glass from the front door
The hall before stripping
And the hall after the steamer incident
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