The last week has been devoted to fundamental matters. I dragged home 55 bags (at 55lbs each) of concrete mix, and we put it in the basement using the ever-handy fish tub. What will I do when it finally breaks? The best present, in practical terms, my father ever gave me was this product of his beach-combing. After lots of pickaxe work, and lots of winching out tubs of gravel (Jo bravely went down in the cellar, in spite of rock walls being the favoured abode of you-know-what), I was ready to pour this nice 16-inch footing.
One day--not soon, but one day--this chaos of damp clay and shale will be just a happy memory. Note to self: don't ever buy rebar at THAT PLACE again--double the fair price.
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