Getting stuck in

So where were we? Ah yes, the shit storm we had woken up to on our first day with no heating and a smelly bathroom. The heating problem was solved fairly quickly: we had no gas in the tank. As we’re pretty rural, we’re not connected to mains services and therefore our water and gas are through our own supply which we have to source. We did finally get a gas delivery… 3 days later. And for those 3 days, Everly had to go back to her grandparents’ house and John and I slowly became frozen artefacts of once enthusiastic house buyers.

However, we did finally get a warm house that we could welcome our child back to. Praise be. It wasn’t the best way to start our new life, but we didn’t let it affect us in any way. Apart from waddling around like the Michelin Man due to the 258 layers we were wearing.

Now for the bathroom smell. It went away. It also came back and went away again, and thus so did our resolve to get it fixed. Out of nose, out of mind. We have since sought the advice of a plumber who said it’s most likely due to the old flooring which was laid around 2008, and there being moisture within the grout. We also got quoted from a bathroom fitter and tiler and for just that one bathroom, one sole room of bath, I would like to emphasise, it would cost approximately £10,000.

And so my friends, I’m not saying it’s wise advice or what I would recommend, but we decided we’d do the bathroom when it was right for us. Basically, when we had 10 grand spare, which didn’t look like anytime soon. So on the days the smell reared its putrid head, we closed the door and used a different bathroom. Ignorance is bliss, right?

I have been told that I’m a very well-organised person and I always have my priorities in order. So whilst our family bathroom was festering away and probably rotting the floorboards, we decided to focus on what was truly important: the playroom.

The ‘bedroom 5’ as it was labelled on the floor plan, was downstairs and on the right of the hallway as you entered the house. There were two cupboards which had been fitted into the alcoves, but the door frames were too small and it was a tired, grey room. We wanted to bring some life into it, but only had a small budget of around £400, including buying some toys and accessories. It was a sound room, and just needed some decoration, so we painted the bottom half of the walls in Johnson’s chalk paint and the top in a warm neutral.

We then added architrave to the door frames to give the illusion of the door and frame fitting better together, as well as tying the cupboards in to the period of the house. All that was left was to buy a ball pit, a slide, some wall letters and stickers from Etsy and a new light. We came in within budget and we had it ready in time for Everly’s second birthday, which was the perfect surprise for her.

This was our first taste of DIY within the house, and it got us excited. Excited to really get stuck in, to transform the rooms into our own family space, and to see a project through to completion. This was also probably the easiest room, meaning we needed to up our skills going forward.

Next up was the snug and kitchen, and we knew this was going to be the most expensive project, but we’d planned for that (just not stinky bathrooms trying to barge their way up the priority list). We’d already done plenty of research into which kitchen company we were going to use, and after having appointments with Wren, DIY Kitchens and Magnet, we had decided to go for Magnet. We had our kitchen fitting date of May booked in, so had 3 months to wait, to live in the space and to plan how our new kitchen would work around us.

The snug adjoins on to the kitchen so we were tackling that room next. I had a vision of a bold room in a deep, rich colour with bespoke fitted cabinets in the alcove and some log store shelves. The quote for this alcove unit was almost £3000. Why is everything in the thousands? And why didn’t someone bury stacks of cash within the walls? And here is the reason why John does DIY, and how he learned to make our own alcove unit on the job: because we don’t piss money, unfortunately.