The Porch
Yes, yes. I know you were all waiting for door #4, but the porch got in the way.
On Friday She summoned me to the front door. Number 1 sprog and I had been watching TV, and had heard nothing. The Missus, however, had heard the front gate open, and then the bang. There in the large glass pane that makes up most of our porch door was the starred evidence of an impact. Some little... sweetheart... had thrown something.
Nobody was in the road by this time. Er Indoors is convinced that it was a contract hit from the Snodlanders. I think it was just the local junior mafia. Either way, door #4 would have to wait. Saturday was porch door day.
First thing on Saturday I had to get the old glass out. Father-in-law had hand-built the door because of the small space. Which meant the window was put in using the traditional putty method. So I started to scrape the putty away and try to remove the glass. The putty at the top of the window was the texture and strength of vulcanized tyre rubber. Very hard going. At the bottom though the putty was brittle and hard. Odd, as the wood was all soft and flaky around the glass at that point.
She helped by standing for 20 minutes encouraging me with comments like "You should be wearing goggles." Where are your gloves?" "Don't make a mess." She missed Her vocation as a project manager.
Off to the dump (sorry, recycling centre) and then to the DIY store. We decided that we were going to have a polystyrene sheet instead of glass. With a bit of luck the next brick they heave will bounce back and brain the little... darlings. The only sheets thay had that were remotely like the right size were for internal use only. If I was quick, and cleared up the evidence afterwards, She would never know. That and some batons and I was laughing.
Carefully I measured the window space, then transferred them to the polysyrene sheet. Then I did it again. Then I held up the sheet to the door to make sure. No worries.
The instructions said to cut it to shape I could use a Stanley knife. Score it half-way through then snap it. I ran the knife along the mark. And again. And again. Half-way through? I had barely scratched it. The instructions said I could also use a saw. Yes! Power tool opportunity!
I put the blade in the jigsaw that was specially for plastic. Very carefully I started to saw along the line. Careful. Don't cross the line. Nice and slow.
OK. What it doesn't say anywhere is that if you cut plastic with a jigsaw very slowly, the friction melts the plastic. It then immediately sets after the blade has passed. Instead of cutting it I was welding it. Back again to the start, and this time push it faster.
Put it up to the door. With just a little persuasion and a spot of judicious trimming it fitted perfectly. Now to cut the batons.
I put the baton into the mitre saw and sawed a 45° angle. Then I held it to the window and marked where to saw. Sawed again, this time changing the angle to the other 45° (been there before). A perfect fit. Nail it into place (Please, please guide the hammer, oh god of home improvement. Don't let me put it through the polystyrene sheet).
Now for the upright. I repeated the procedure. I sawed to the mark I had made and then put it in place. One inch short?? But how? I went back to the remainder of the baton. There was my mark, an inch from where I had cut it. Damn, there must have been a spurious mark that I had cut it to. It was at this point that the Missus chose to appear again.
"That's one inch short."
"I know"
"Have you got enough wood to cut it again?"
"No"
She turned and went inside again. Uh-oh. Silence from the Little Woman is worse than caustic comments. If only she had come out later, she would never have known.
Eventually I was finished. Not bad, even with the one inch join in the top corner. But I could tell that She was not impressed.
"People can see through it into the porch. The old glass was patterned."
Back off to the DIY store. Frosted stickyback plastic. Clever Bob. Read the instructions. Carefully smooth the plastic onto the window, ensuring there are no air bubbles.
It is pigging impossible to smooth it on without bubbles! Impossible, no matter how much you shout and scream at it. So I got sprog number 2 to hold the plastic away from the wind as, inch by inch, I smoothed it on. There are some air bubbles. Not my fault. It was my youngest's fault. Don't shout at him, Darling, he's only 12.
On Friday She summoned me to the front door. Number 1 sprog and I had been watching TV, and had heard nothing. The Missus, however, had heard the front gate open, and then the bang. There in the large glass pane that makes up most of our porch door was the starred evidence of an impact. Some little... sweetheart... had thrown something.
Nobody was in the road by this time. Er Indoors is convinced that it was a contract hit from the Snodlanders. I think it was just the local junior mafia. Either way, door #4 would have to wait. Saturday was porch door day.
First thing on Saturday I had to get the old glass out. Father-in-law had hand-built the door because of the small space. Which meant the window was put in using the traditional putty method. So I started to scrape the putty away and try to remove the glass. The putty at the top of the window was the texture and strength of vulcanized tyre rubber. Very hard going. At the bottom though the putty was brittle and hard. Odd, as the wood was all soft and flaky around the glass at that point.
She helped by standing for 20 minutes encouraging me with comments like "You should be wearing goggles." Where are your gloves?" "Don't make a mess." She missed Her vocation as a project manager.
Off to the dump (sorry, recycling centre) and then to the DIY store. We decided that we were going to have a polystyrene sheet instead of glass. With a bit of luck the next brick they heave will bounce back and brain the little... darlings. The only sheets thay had that were remotely like the right size were for internal use only. If I was quick, and cleared up the evidence afterwards, She would never know. That and some batons and I was laughing.
Carefully I measured the window space, then transferred them to the polysyrene sheet. Then I did it again. Then I held up the sheet to the door to make sure. No worries.
The instructions said to cut it to shape I could use a Stanley knife. Score it half-way through then snap it. I ran the knife along the mark. And again. And again. Half-way through? I had barely scratched it. The instructions said I could also use a saw. Yes! Power tool opportunity!
I put the blade in the jigsaw that was specially for plastic. Very carefully I started to saw along the line. Careful. Don't cross the line. Nice and slow.
OK. What it doesn't say anywhere is that if you cut plastic with a jigsaw very slowly, the friction melts the plastic. It then immediately sets after the blade has passed. Instead of cutting it I was welding it. Back again to the start, and this time push it faster.
Put it up to the door. With just a little persuasion and a spot of judicious trimming it fitted perfectly. Now to cut the batons.
I put the baton into the mitre saw and sawed a 45° angle. Then I held it to the window and marked where to saw. Sawed again, this time changing the angle to the other 45° (been there before). A perfect fit. Nail it into place (Please, please guide the hammer, oh god of home improvement. Don't let me put it through the polystyrene sheet).
Now for the upright. I repeated the procedure. I sawed to the mark I had made and then put it in place. One inch short?? But how? I went back to the remainder of the baton. There was my mark, an inch from where I had cut it. Damn, there must have been a spurious mark that I had cut it to. It was at this point that the Missus chose to appear again.
"That's one inch short."
"I know"
"Have you got enough wood to cut it again?"
"No"
She turned and went inside again. Uh-oh. Silence from the Little Woman is worse than caustic comments. If only she had come out later, she would never have known.
Eventually I was finished. Not bad, even with the one inch join in the top corner. But I could tell that She was not impressed.
"People can see through it into the porch. The old glass was patterned."
Back off to the DIY store. Frosted stickyback plastic. Clever Bob. Read the instructions. Carefully smooth the plastic onto the window, ensuring there are no air bubbles.
It is pigging impossible to smooth it on without bubbles! Impossible, no matter how much you shout and scream at it. So I got sprog number 2 to hold the plastic away from the wind as, inch by inch, I smoothed it on. There are some air bubbles. Not my fault. It was my youngest's fault. Don't shout at him, Darling, he's only 12.
posted by Bob Simms | 7:21 pm
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