Hello dear readers!
Well, I’m not sure about your particular corner of the world but here in sunny West Yorkshire it’s actually… Sunny.
Yup, that wonderful ball of burning gas is shining down on us with nary a cloud in the sky to spoil the view or lower the temperature. It’s led to the hottest, brightest day of the year so far. In short, as we say in these parts, it’s proper cracking the flags.
So, with this being the U.K. and such days being in short supply it must surely be time to get out the garden furniture, whip off the T-shirt, crank up the barbie, and crack a few cold ones in the back garden, yeah?
In a word… No.
The Secret To My Access
As much as the above scenario sounds like absolute heaven, there are a few practicalities that would prevent such simple pleasures. The first of which is the issue of access.
Some of you may recall back when we bought the current Seated Perspective Towers. You may recall that it needed a little TLC and some heavy renovation to make it the cosy little bolthole it currently is. You may also remember that the back garden could only be accessed by way of three steps leading down from the back door and three steps leading back up to what is essentially a bed of gravel.
Luckily, Kirklees council were on hand to lend a, um, hand.
Team Work?
There’s a department of the council you see, called The Accessible Homes team. Working on the somewhat outlandish premise that people should be able to get in, out, and around their homes, this team will employ contractors to fit a range of adaptations to a house. It was they that were responsible for the ramp that now leads up to our front door, the half wet room that had replaced the much missed bath, and the small bridge that spans the couple of feet between the back door and the garden.
Okay, you may think to yourself, that’s that sorted then. So why are you still grumbling Mr Seated Perspective? Why?
The Hole Truth
Well, although they have given me access to the back garden, this is still essentially access to a bed of gravel. I don’t know if you have ever had the occasion to push a wheelchair over, or rather through, gravel. It’s a little like pushing a brick through treacle, except the treacle is made up entirely of sharp edges. Suffice it to say that on all of the attempts to travel more than a couple of inches I’ve ended up unceremoniously stuck. Much to the merriment of my lovely wife, Tina (she did help me to get unstuck… eventually).
This, coupled with the fact that they would only pay for tiling in the part of the bathroom around the shower, tiling which is a completely different colour and makes the bathroom look like it was designed by a colour blind cubist going through their experimental phase, and that the internal doors that they widened have left gaping holes in the surrounding walls (ironically the doors were widened to stop me damaging them.) amongst other areas that just look unfinished and, well, I’m sure that you can see why I kind of wish we hadn’t had it done.
Garden Variety
Anyhoo, to make this a little less ranty, it’s the garden access that’s really getting my goat and other assorted farm animals at the moment. You see, apart from the idyllic dreams of burning some cheap meat on an outdoor grill (whilst leaving it raw in the middle of course… it’s a skill), perhaps with some good company and some boozy beverages, there are other considerations that could do with being addressed. Gardening being the main one.
I am in no way one of nature’s gardeners. My thumbs are about as un-green as you can get. I could just about manage a bit of pruning and tidying though (as long as it was on the lower hanging branches that is), but now, thanks to the accursed gravel, even the shortest shrubs are out of my reach. It might not make much of a dent in what is quickly becoming a small forest of overgrown trees, rampant weeds, and the odd outnumbered flower but it would make me feel like I was at least doing something useful.
Flying The Flags
If I’m honest though, with the size of the job, and the height of some of the foliage, I think it might be time to bite the bullet and see if we can save up some of those all to rare pennies to get someone in. A gardening service may cost us a bob or two but it would mean the job gets done and possibly save me a trip to casualty. I think at the moment it’s either that or a can of petrol and a match... Which I believe is frowned upon.
Either way, once the possibility of Triffids has been dealt with it would be nice to be able to use the garden that lies beneath. Maybe if we save those pennies real hard we might be able to stretch to some flagstones for that sun to crack. Maybe, next year could be the year of the barbecue. Who knows?
Until next time…
Some of you may recall back when we bought the current Seated Perspective Towers. You may recall that it needed a little TLC and some heavy renovation to make it the cosy little bolthole it currently is. You may also remember that the back garden could only be accessed by way of three steps leading down from the back door and three steps leading back up to what is essentially a bed of gravel.
Luckily, Kirklees council were on hand to lend a, um, hand.
Team Work?
There’s a department of the council you see, called The Accessible Homes team. Working on the somewhat outlandish premise that people should be able to get in, out, and around their homes, this team will employ contractors to fit a range of adaptations to a house. It was they that were responsible for the ramp that now leads up to our front door, the half wet room that had replaced the much missed bath, and the small bridge that spans the couple of feet between the back door and the garden.
Okay, you may think to yourself, that’s that sorted then. So why are you still grumbling Mr Seated Perspective? Why?
The Hole Truth
Well, although they have given me access to the back garden, this is still essentially access to a bed of gravel. I don’t know if you have ever had the occasion to push a wheelchair over, or rather through, gravel. It’s a little like pushing a brick through treacle, except the treacle is made up entirely of sharp edges. Suffice it to say that on all of the attempts to travel more than a couple of inches I’ve ended up unceremoniously stuck. Much to the merriment of my lovely wife, Tina (she did help me to get unstuck… eventually).
This, coupled with the fact that they would only pay for tiling in the part of the bathroom around the shower, tiling which is a completely different colour and makes the bathroom look like it was designed by a colour blind cubist going through their experimental phase, and that the internal doors that they widened have left gaping holes in the surrounding walls (ironically the doors were widened to stop me damaging them.) amongst other areas that just look unfinished and, well, I’m sure that you can see why I kind of wish we hadn’t had it done.
Garden Variety
Anyhoo, to make this a little less ranty, it’s the garden access that’s really getting my goat and other assorted farm animals at the moment. You see, apart from the idyllic dreams of burning some cheap meat on an outdoor grill (whilst leaving it raw in the middle of course… it’s a skill), perhaps with some good company and some boozy beverages, there are other considerations that could do with being addressed. Gardening being the main one.
I am in no way one of nature’s gardeners. My thumbs are about as un-green as you can get. I could just about manage a bit of pruning and tidying though (as long as it was on the lower hanging branches that is), but now, thanks to the accursed gravel, even the shortest shrubs are out of my reach. It might not make much of a dent in what is quickly becoming a small forest of overgrown trees, rampant weeds, and the odd outnumbered flower but it would make me feel like I was at least doing something useful.
Flying The Flags
If I’m honest though, with the size of the job, and the height of some of the foliage, I think it might be time to bite the bullet and see if we can save up some of those all to rare pennies to get someone in. A gardening service may cost us a bob or two but it would mean the job gets done and possibly save me a trip to casualty. I think at the moment it’s either that or a can of petrol and a match... Which I believe is frowned upon.
Either way, once the possibility of Triffids has been dealt with it would be nice to be able to use the garden that lies beneath. Maybe if we save those pennies real hard we might be able to stretch to some flagstones for that sun to crack. Maybe, next year could be the year of the barbecue. Who knows?
Until next time…
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