Claudia and I popped up to the house today, as that nice Huf Haus Blokey was in Switzerland on one of his regular rounds.
There are two other Huf Haus projects underway in Switzerland at the moment. He'd just arrived huffing and puffing having driven up from a place near Chur (think Alpine paradise) where there's the most precipitous Huf Haus project I've seen yet. They've literally chopped a step into the hillside, or should that be mountain side. Anyways, one feels the owners will need crampons to do their gardening. T'other project's on t'other side of the Zurich lake, in one of the outlying Zurich feeder villages.
All three projects, including ours, are three-axis white Huf Haus's, so we're at least fashionable.
Where was I? Aha, the meeting...
There was an old chap with tattoos working hard in the Bastelraum when we arrived. As it's little more than a standard cellar room in drag, it's important that it gets fully tanked out for moisture, heating and insulation. Good to see plenty of work done, including nice tongue and grooving ceiling wood, white-washed to match the similar ceilings on the upstairs bedroom floor. Very civilised, and brings lots of light into what we already know will be a light compromised room. Might even stop moaning about the extra expense of the bloody soddin' Bastelraum if it comes out as good as I think it will.
Might. Might not. So there.
Nice Huf Haus Blokey arrived, so upstairs for the first item on the agenda: We agreed that the boxy thing in the bathroom above which we need to put a mirror can be chopped down to a more reasonable 105cm height. If you remember it'd been boxed in at 130cm high, which means any mirror flat on the wall behind it would only be suitable for giraffes with a vanity problem. The old chap with tattoos and a hard hat reckoned 100cm would be better, which we took seriously as he'd be the one who'll be doing the woodwork. Nice Huf Haus Blokey reckoned 110cm. Claudia and I shrugged, and compromised at 105cm, which I reckon keeps everyone happy.
Tramp tramp tramp downsairs again, where I point out that someone's knocked a corner off the front door. Whoops, it'd cut right through the cardboard cladding and everything. Old chap to the rescue: he reckoned he could fix it good as new. We'll see, but if it ain't as good as new then we'll be wanting a new as new door.
We asked nice Huf Haus Blokey whether the heating delays had delayed the overall schedule. He looked genuinely surprised at the question; of course not. Erm, I mumbled, thought not. Good-o. Right. So the project over-run seems put to bed. There ain't one.
Then a brief inspection of the heating system. We discussed whether the 22 degrees C setting was high enough. Yep, but higher would be better. How high? Very high. So we cranked it right up to the heady maximum of 26 degrees C. Full power! My preferred approach to drying out the house, I must say. Damn the bloody torpedoes.
And that was it. Handshakes all round, and then off we go, back to the office for the rest of the working day in sedentary paradise.