Friday, 1 August 2008

They Destroyed Our House!

Current mood:  angry

Ah, dear sweet Chris Picton, architect and project manager.  Does everyone remember the name a certain friend of mine came up with for him.  I just want to say I feel like calling him by that name once again.  He's no architect or project manager to us.  He's our arch rival and project destruction artist.
We went to see the house on Sunday July 27th, even though we didn't have permission to do so.  We're sick of Picton not keeping in touch, or telling us what's going on.  We've just received yet another letter to tell us he's going on holiday again - about the only thing he ever does tell us.  I don't believe he's away as often as he says.
So what did we find upon our arrival?
Well, first off, the scaffolding has NOT been taken down, as it was supposed to have been.  Opening the door, we discovered there were no floorboards in the hall at all - just a few planks of wood roughly balancing on the foundations.  We could see that the wall had been put up between the two living rooms (now to be the front reception room and kitchen), but couldn't get into either of the rooms to see what destruction had been caused in there.
None of us really should have gone in there at all, but David went striding in like the idiot he is, stomped up the stairs, and went to measure the bathroom...only to find there was no floor at all in there, so he couldn't do a thing.
Suddenly, he cried out, "What the hell have they done in here?  They've messed up the bl**dy thing..."
"What bl**dy thing?"  Mum called back.  David didn't answer.  I was already in a foul mood about Picton going on another pretend holiday so, ignoring Mum's cries of fear and arms trying to hold me back (only succeeding in knocking me off balance, and almost sending me sailing across the hall), I pranced up the stairs to see what damage had been inflicted on the house this time.
Well, you know Mum and I wanted to keep as many of the original features of the house as possible?  They already binned our bedroom doors, ripped out our living room ceilings and knocked down the wall between the old and new kitchens, so there was only one thing left - our favourite fireplace in the front bedroom upstairs.
Every time we have seen Chris, we've asked about that fireplace, and he's said he's getting an expert in to see if he can move it downstairs.  If not, we had agreed to keep it upstairs.
So what do we find in the big bedroom upstairs, the room that's to be the "family room", where the fireplace was staying if the expert couldn't move it downstairs?
The builders have started to knock the chimney breast out from the ceiling downwards, clearly with no regard for the fireplace at all - our beautiful 50s fireplace is smashed.


WTH?  There's no way that was an accident, is there?  I was fuming.  By this point, Mum had made it upstairs too, and was devestated.
I had a good mind to go and knock on the door to shout at the architect, who I am pretty sure would have been there, despite his "I'm on holiday" nonsense.  But Mum decided it would be better to ring him in a few days and act ignorant, as though we had not been in the house, and see what nonsense he came up with about the fireplace being broken by accident or whatnot.
 We left the house, and there have been huge arguments ever since - everything Mum and I loved about the house is gone now, but having poured so much money into it, and knowing David would never bother to move elsewhere, we really have not much choice now.  It's still a nice area, where I hope to get my life back on track.
Anyways, this week we have rung the builders, even though P*ss Sickton has banned us all from speaking to one another, and it seems that, despite Mum's reservations over the awful *Welsh* builder, he is far better than the wonderful *English* architect, Sickton.  Now who was the only sensible person in this household who told her not to judge people on where they came from?!  Oh, I remember - me. 
Anyways, it appears Sickton has been lying to both us and the builders.  While telling us he was getting a (non-existant, it now appears) expert in to see about the fireplace,  he had told the builders to "see if they could remove any of the tiles, and if not knock the fireplace out".
As for the doors, the builder himself (who really is all for keeping original features) has kept the doors in his own nearby house, so there is no problem at all with fire regulations.  In fact, the doors we are now being offered the opportunity to buy - please note, it's the builders who have sent us the chart of doors we can buy while the architect is "away" (he's told the builders he's away too, so maybe he actually is this time) - are of exactly the same thickness.  The builders were told we didn't want those either.
It would appear Picton lied to us, as he gets a cut whenever we purchase anything from the company who are selling the only doors we've been offered the chance to buy.
Oh, and you know the wall of Mum's bedroom that got moved back over a foot for the stairs to David's loft?  There was absolutely no reason to move that wall, and is no problem with moving it back where it was.  SICKTON TOLD THEM WE NEEDED A BIGGER BATHROOM IN THE LOFT!!!  Um...but we're only having a shower in the loft, and a bath on the first floor?!
The builders are not allowed to take orders from us, so now we have to wait for Picton to get back from his holiday (imaginary or not) before they can even start re-doing what they already did wrong, thanks to the idiotic project manager.  So it looks like the move is going to be delayed even further.  *Sighs*
If only we had been allowed to speak to the builders ourselves before.  It really seems we would have come up with a much better result for Woodberry.
I have only one thought right now, and that's SABOTAGE!  I wonder if Sickton is friends with those evil neighbours who stole most of Ron's possessions the day he died?    In which case maybe they're all trying their hardest to scare us off and stop us moving there.
Of course, Mum thought that was a stupid idea, until David started repeating me, and now suddenly they both think it.
Sickton will be mad when he gets back from his latest holiday and discovers we've had anything to do with the builders, and heard some of his lies.
I shall keep you posted on what happens next.  All fingers crossed for us please.
RIP Pretty Little Mantlepiece.  We'll never forget you, and I will never forgive Sickton for your death.
Desiree Skylark   xxx

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