I Hope They Bloody Like It

Unexpectedly, the pond ‘minor building alteration’ turned into the ‘increasingly irritating fuckup’.

If you employ a local contractor in this country, chances are, you’re going to get a fuckup. Years ago, I wanted to knock the wall down between the shower and bathroom, install a bidet and corner bath. The wankers who arrived  – carefully chosen from that minefield in the local rag entitled ‘At Your Service’ – kicked things off by tobogganing  the bath down the stairs into the kitchen door. They used so much ThickFix putting the tiles up that the cornice disappeared completely. Well, almost completely as the tiling took a roller coaster ride around the bathroom.

You may ask why I didn’t stop them? I was in Joburg while the mayhem was visited on my humble abode. I eventually sacked them but my expensive tiles were on the walls. Even the wall built to hide one of the doors was so bowed that the plaster ranged from micrometres thick at the base to several inches thick at the top. Even when these paragons from At Your service were dismissed, they were outraged at such dismissive appreciation of their professionalism.

Even the plumber couldn’t get it right. I remember haggling with him whilst I sat on the toilet and he sat on the bidet. Finally, I got a guy who Hilti-chiselled my expensive tiles off the wall and replaced them with cheap tiles half way up the wall because that’s all I could afford.

Which brings me back to the turtle pond..

Whilst everything else about it is perfectly acceptable there is the small matter of the water requirement. It is a pond after all.

After joyfully filling it up the other day with triumphalist music and bunting, the level dropped. And dropped.

My drug-dealer contractor told me to leave it and see how far it went. A pretty long way down as it happened. The fish and turtles had to be force removed into their old home. After four days, all that was left was a small puddle at one edge – and it took half an hour to get the last guppies out of that.

Isambard insisted that it couldn’t leak through his screed but as the puddle was close to the edge, it might have been the wall/floor join. Unfortunately, although he agreed to redo the waterproofing, it requires several days of dry weather – at a point where he can spend a day redoing it. Not a big job but dirty.

Eventually I decided to do it myself and bought the sealer and membrane. I also bought plastic to cover the pool whilst the curing process proceeded. Unfortunately it rained on the first night, my cover collapsed – twice – and the next morning I had to remove several inches of oxtail soup, dry the pond with four heater fans and start again. Oh, and after bathing in turps to get the sealer off my lower torso. I had the most waterproof genitals in Durban.

Well, four fan heaters and a large fan and several hours later, the pond was dry. The state of the screed looked dreadful with a large ding halfway across it. So, a new 5l of sealer and roll of membrane later and the job was redone.

Which I have just done – complete with a tent that would withstand Katrina.

Two bits of builders plastic stapled together, a bit of plastic angle from the dump and three vice grips assisted by the turtle tank and there you have it!

Not a drop should leak out – but I’ll find that out next Saturday when I – incrementally – start to fill the pond.

I hope the bloody reptiles appreciate it.

Update Monday

It drizzled today and there were two trickles into the pond from the outside so I’m pretty happy.

And last weekend, it was Jasmin’s son’s 21st. Sen has grown into a nice young man.

This is a small avo tree in our parking area.

Last year, it sported but a single avo. This year, there were several dozen – of which I took a few. I returned the next day replete with anticipation to find that some bastard had nicked the lot.

And this, my friends is what they hope to put up next to the soccer stadium.

A bloody great eyesore that will be the tallest in the southern hemisphere. 88 storeys and I thought we were in a recession.