Paving–how to…

I am generally a stranger to the garden, but one recent sunny, Saturday afternoon I thought it might be nice to help Sally with a bit of weeding. One thing led to another and we started to talk about taking down the old shed that has been at the bottom of the garden since Adam was a lad. But what to put in its place?

“A patio”, Sally agreed.

“Good idea”, I decided, “somewhere to sit in the sunshine”.

See how my mind rushed immediately to thoughts of balmy days, lounging on the patio, cooled by lashings of ice-clinking lemon barley water?

Anyhow, within minutes, I was tearing down the shed (almost literally) with my bare hands. I was motivated by the sunshine and wanting the exercise (no run that day) and I was full of visions of laying the patio and saving money (particularly the money – have you any idea how much paving costs from a proper bloke?). How difficult could paving be, anyway?

The next morning, off to B&Q bright and early: paving slabs, sand, ballast, decorative stone chippings and a rubber mallet, plus some advice from one of the men working there. I could feel success coming on.

In the garden, I decided (with Sally’s “help”) that I would leave the concrete sleepers that had been supporting the shed in place, to provide a level base (error no. 1 (or no. 2, counting deciding to do it in the first place)). I tamped the ground, spread ballast and sand, got it level. I even thought to put in a brick edging to stop it all flowing all over the place under the pressure of the sun-loungers. By the time it got dark, I was ready to lay the paving. A good day’s work; I felt I had earned my dinner.

I should point out that the brick edging was poor and the concrete sleeper base, plus ballast, plus sand made the patio quite high off the ground. Also, I had realised I had only bought about half the required number of paving slabs and far from enough stone chippings. Over the next couple of days Sally obviously gave a good deal of thought to the progress I had made. No doubt she compared the quality my work with the quality she had previously experienced from a professional paving guy. Whatever, on the Tuesday evening, she sacked me! How embarrassing: weighed in the balance and found wanting by my own wife and fired! I was upset, but brave!

To add to the injury (I would say, “to add insult to the injury”, but I couldn’t have been more insulted), a day or two later, just as I was getting used to the idea of being sacked, and looking forward to getting back to doing what I liked (which is mainly messing about and stuff) she summarily re-instated me, giving me “one more chance”! The cheek of the woman!

So, up came the sleepers, the sand and the ballast, and I dug down. I unearthed stuff – broken paving slabs, posts, roots, bricks. I got the ground as flat as I could and whacked it down with a post I had dug up and checked it was level with a spirit level. I pulled up the edging and laid it again (flat and square this time) and carefully laid the paving (including the extra paving) – another couple of days work! Was it OK this time? It was better, but not right.

I took a radical step – I asked for advice and was told to lay the paving on a weak sand and cement mix. After deciphering this advice, I bought some sand and cement, and mixed them and laid the paving. Mixing cement is a very manly thing to do, don’t you think? And edged it with some nice stone chippings. Good? Yes! But…

…there was “just” a bit of additional stuff. So more digging, and removing bushes and replanting them, laying huge, incredibly heavy paving slabs (that had been hiding behind the shed), and moving rocks in the rock garden that had been uncovered, to make an area for storing bins. Oh, and there was a little ramp so that the bins could be wheeled up to their new storage area.

Then there was a bit more edging, more whacking and more stone chippings; and finally, the grouting between the paving slabs (and re-grouting in the old patio where it had come out) and some alpine shrubs and plants for the re-discovered rock garden. Finished at last!

So what do you think? The project cost about £200 and about 5 or 6 days labour. Funnily enough, I actually enjoyed it. I want to build a wall next…

Inheritance Tracks

I heard an interesting idea the other day - Inheritance Tracks. Which are what, you ask? The idea is that they are music tracks which have been handed down to you by a previous generation or tracks that you would like to hand on to the next. I'm not sure what other criteria there are (this was a 30 second slot on the radio), so I'm going to say that the tracks should be precious to you in some way, and they should not be dead obvious (no "Angels" by Robbie Williams; unless, of course you are Robbie Williams or his Mum, in which case I can see that it would be very precious indeed). I don't think there's a set number (unlike "Desert Island Discs").

When I was growing up in the late 60s and early 70s (I know, you'd think I was much younger than that), we didn't really take much notice of what previous generations had been listening to - we  didn't even take much notice of songs that were six months old! Maybe all younger generations are like that, I don't know - I've only been young once! So, there isn't much that I inherited from an older generation. My Mum liked Frank Sinatra and Tony Bennett and the Beatles. I thought they were all rubbish.

The inheritance tracks I'd like to pass on are all old now, and there aren't many of them - in truth, I no longer really listen to music. I feel I could or should include something from all the artists I have loved, but there are so many: Leon Russell, Carole King, Paul Simon, Leonard Cohen, Richard Thompson, Sam Cooke, Bob Dylan, Beethoven, Puccinni, Charlie Parker, Miles Davies, Chet Baker, Van Morrison, Marvin Gaye, Bob Marley, Eric Clapton, Paul Weller and I could go on; choosing is really hard!

These are the first three that come to mind:

This first one (chronologically at least) would be "Handbags and Gladrags" sung by Chris Farlowe (see the Wikipedia entry for more details about the song's history). Probably I prefer the Rod Stewart version, but Chris Farlowe was first. I remember buying it with a record token I was given for Christmas when I was 11, which was the year I got my first record player, it was my first year at grammar school, and the year I had my appendix out. At the age of 11, I didn't really like it, but I thought it would be cool to like that sort of thing (a bit like, a couple of years later you were supposed to like Monty Python, even though it wasn't funny). I grew to love it (the song, not Monty Python, I just learned to be honest about that), and that sort of rough, R&B, soulful sound has remained a favourite of mine, and always speaks to my heart.

The next one is Elgar's Cello Concerto, and there can only be one version, Jacqueline du Pré's. And it's in my list simply because it's the most beautiful thing I have ever heard; it gives me goose-bumps every time I hear it.

I always like songs of love and loss; so I had to include the dreamy, breathy, soaring "When I'm Old and Wise", sung by Colin Blunstone on the Alan Parsons Album "Eye in the Sky". Definitely non-obvious and precious to me - I hope one day to be old and wise and to look back wistfully on the loves and friendships I've had.

And I bet there are others, but I don't know which I would like to pass on that the next generation hasn't already found! Maybe I'll add more as I think of them