Home, Home All Deranged

I SEE that AIB and estate agents Sherry FitzGerald have launched a Home Log Book for use by home owners.

The idea is that owners can fill in all data relevant to the house date of construction, ownership history, alterations, repairs, additions, service locations, garden plantings and so on.

As it happens, I (myself) kept a home log many years ago and can recommend the idea strongly. Here, with some extracts.

1978

February 5th. At last, the place is ours! After all the hassle, we have got it at a bargain price all the money we will ever make in ours lives, plus £1800 begged from the in laws, and a secured lease on our immortal souls. Still, it is home, or will be when the roof is replaced.

February 6th. A request arrives, from the solicitor for £450 on account pending final bill. Doesn't matter: apparently a young couple can actually survive for a month in reasonable health on cornflakes and vitamin pills.

February 20th. We have spent our first night in our new home.

I have not slept on bare floors since my student days.

I am not a student now.

March 4th. I already know about the rising damp, but it now appears we also have wet and dry rot. When I suggest to the builder that these should surely cancel each other out, he looks at me strangely.

It would probably be simpler to reconstruct the house as a boat but have decided to tackle the damp problem ourselves.

March 24th. The DIY dampproofing, a five day job which I think has given me chronic asthma, has only worked in part: a small part, about one foot square. Perhaps we could drape the entire structure in black plastic sacks.

April 3rd. Spring cleaning time! We will start with the redecoration of our bedroom.

April 9th. Spring cleaning looks like running into autumn of next year. The last owners of the house have been revealed as serial wallpaperers and we are now down to the seventh layer of grotesque floral paper on one wall of the room.

April 10th. There is paint under the final (ninth) layer of wallpaper. Quite a few layers of paint.

April 16th. Time to tackle the garden. We are relieved to find that the top soil has not been removed or interfered with. Indeed it is perfectly secure under about three tons of builders rubble. Perhaps we should forget about a garden and settle for a very large patio.

April 23rd. Joe, my neighbour, knocks on the door to politely enquire why our lawn mower sounds like a pneumatic drill. I tell him I haven't got a lawn mower and am unlikely to need one for some time. I offer to loan him my drill whenever he needs to do a bit of gardening. Joe goes away.

June 24th. After discovering a small screw driver beside an open window in an upstairs room we realise the house has been burgled. It may been have been ransacked. It is very hard to know as we can find nothing missing. There probably is not much to find. This is all mores embarrassing than upsetting.

July 10th. We think about a summer holiday. A bank statement arrives. We carry on thinking about a summer holiday, without any particular summer in mind.

August 6th. A single yellow tulip has forced its way through the remaining rubble in the back garden! The effect is strangely hypnotic. I stare at it for hours. Then I plumb in a bathroom shower. It works perfectly. Where has my expertise come from? A house is a mysterious thing.

August 7th. We have discovered that if the hall and bathroom lights are turned on simultaneously, the washing machine automatically goes into action and cannot be stopped until a full cycle has been completed. We now have some extremely clean socks. Nobody is allowed say the word "rewiring".

August 12th. Drainage holes in the back yard clogged up during last night's thunderstorm. Were we to sell the house now, its attractions would include natural patio and, (shallow) outdoor pool. I spend all of"

Saturday in yellow waders manipulating long metal rods. My caving experience may yet save the day.

August 13th. My caving experience saved nothing. Dyno Rod has now sent us their bill. We reckon it would have been cheaper to leave the drainage vents blocked, install a blue plastic liner, create a proper paddling pool and open it to the local toddlers for a modest charge,

September 20th. We are here seven months today. Having paid close to £1,000 in interest charges we have knocked £17.59 off the initial loan. Time to celebrate, we agree. There must be a can of beer somewhere.