There are many differences between living in Lymington and Olde Londone Towne, not least that you don’t have to add an ‘e’ to the end of everything just to make it sound interesting. That aside, I don’t recall setting fire to much when we lived in the Big Smoke. Kinda ironic when you think about it. Down here it’s not what you call an everyday occurrence until the clocks go back, the nights draw in and the icy blast of storms herald another bitter winter. OK maybe that’s a tad over the top, especially this autumn, but allow some poetic licence please!  Then it’s simply a matter of where to get logs from for the log-burning stove. Now regular readers of this irregular blog will know I’m not exactly a backwoods man, but even I can take a hint as to what fuel a log-burning stove uses.

As good fortune would have it, my sister had the sense to marry someone who is currently employed chopping down trees, grinding stumps and generally creating logs for our stove. Result. Since he also cuts hedges and does other remarkably green type things, we normally get a visit late autumn from the entire family with a large trucky thing full of logs which gets exchanged for a trucky thing full of hedge clippings. Can’t see why this sort of thing hasn’t caught on. Shame they live in Surrey Dorking Tree Surgeons.

All that was needed to safely ignite said logs was someone to sweep the chimney. Wife suggested it could be me as I had accidentally purchased a chimney brush when I bought an extending drain cleaning jobbie from B&Q. Don’t ask, it was while the MiL was still with us and is best not discussed. Anyways when unwrapped it also had a circular brush which could be attached to the same extendible shaft. Obviously it had seemed like a natural pairing by someone at B&Q head office, maybe there had been a greater than normal chimney brush bristle harvest and they badly need to get rid of the excess. Hmm, bad enough typing that, wouldn’t want to have to say it aloud quickly. One thing I have learnt about DIY’ing things of which you know nothing, the phrase ‘a little knowledge is a dangerous thing’ was written for it. A professional chimney sweep was required.

Fortunately it’s not hard to get a chimney sweep in Lymington, getting an appointment suggested that many other people don’t think of getting their chimney swept until they want to set fire to something. In the end the Big Yellow Monster rolled up, an impressive 4×4 stating it’s business very clearly on the side. Fortunately Barry the efficient sweep refrained from saying ‘Cor blimey Mary Poppins’ even once in my hearing, reported all fine and having used the biggest Henry I’ve ever seen (Henry the eighth?) to keep the soot issue an non-issue, departed. Maybe to a wedding or other significant social event since the business card clearly stated that attendance at weddings was all part of the service. It also states that there is a Guild of Master Sweeps, one can only imagine what their Christmas party is like.

Sorry, couldn’t resist. Anyway if you need Dick Van Dyke Barry we finally got him on 610221.

So as the BBC sound effects wind howls around the house, we hunker down, wait for the thaw and practice wassailing, whatever that is.

One of the side effects of having older generation family members such as the MiL pass away is that there tends to be quite a lot of clearing out to be done.

When she was still alive, like many older people, the MiL was convinced that she was storing up untold wealth for her descendants by putting by anything over a few years old. Any number of pre-decimal coins were stashed away in crannies ready for the day when they could be redeemed for a king’s ransom. Regrettably such coinage has pretty much no value. Don’t think we didn’t check.

A number of old books from her childhood were also expected to fetch a decent amount, and may well have done if she hadn’t used them so much when young. It’s a little hard to get a valuation on a book with no spine and little cover left. The only certain thing is that due to them all being from large runs from large publishing houses, no-one would be beating down our door with lottery-like fees grasped tightly in their fevered hands.

These things we knew. A cursory viewing of the Antiques Roadshow gives you a rudimentary understanding that ‘old’ doesn’t equate to loadsamoney. Especially when ‘old’ is a relative term. We did wonder whether some of the small trinkets might have some value, but due to both her infirmity and nature, the MiL could be a tad clumsy at times. We were reliably informed that, by and large, cracks and chips do not tend to enhance the value of object d’art. Oh well, not time to retire just yet then.

Which just left the furniture. It may not have escaped your notice that as in many things, there are fads and fashions in furniture. The MiL’s furniture is not in fashion right now. I kind of assume it was at some point, just not sure when. It was certainly the time when they tended to use various types of wood and stain them all exactly the same colour. Or as in one item, paint perfectly good beechwood chair with a faux walnut effect. This was confirmed by a couple of experts we consulted, and went a deal of the way to remove my confusion regarding that it seemed possible to wear walnut off the arms. Easy when you know the answer.

So via an alliance of friends, family dealers and auction houses we are pretty much cleared. Word of caution in case you aren’t aware, auctioneers may not realise even the lower estimated price they give to get your custom. They may in fact not be able to sell the item and since they don’t think they will try again, will require you to come and collect the item. At which point it’s a charity or the municipal dump at Everton. You have been warned.

Fortunately putting all the monies together just enabled sufficient funds to re-furnish the MiL’s old room with a few choice new items. Thank you John Lewis, next stop a day out at Ikea at West Quays. That should be fun.

Like a lot of Lymington at the moment, our house has a ‘not yet finished’ look to parts of it. You know what it’s like, watch too many Grand Overdrafts type programmes and you instinctively feel you have to make changes. Of course the changes we are making are very sensible, life-enhancing and add value to our property. Funny how if you keep telling yourself something it turns out to be true in the end. No, really.

So how to get rid of an unused and unusable area which used to be a coal and wood storage area between the house and garage in a way which might even have Kevin McCloud salivating? Obviously the right builder is everything. Get that wrong and you’re staring down the wrong end of a very uncomfortable visit to the bank. So you go with a recommendation from friends and comfort yourself that even though you are going to have to wait six months before anything even starts, it’ll be worth it because no good builder ever says “We can start next week mate”. Continue Reading…