Enquiries Made
Actually I got answers swiftly about the tower blocks and their cladding. Apparently the Department of Communities and Local Government have changed their testing regime, so that the combination of (questionable) panels with (inert) rockwool is no longer deemed sufficient. As a consequence of that the London Fire Brigade have changed their advice, and so Westminster City Council have been pushed to remove it all as quickly as possible. There are six blocks on the Estate, and the Council and CityWest Homes reckon that they could only replace the cladding quickly enough on two of them to enable the rockwool to be re-used, before it became degraded by wind and rain, and so the perfectly serviceable rockwool is being thrown away along with the cladding panels, as I observed. It wouldn't be clever to allow the rockwool to get full of rainwater and then shut it in behind panels, so that's fair enough. The problem now is that they won't finish the work until the spring, and so the flats will be cold and damp again this winter. Still, residents will at least be reassured that Westminster are trying to make the blocks as safe as possible. The important point is that it is central government which has changed the rules since Westminster gave their original message of reassurance, so there is nothing fishy about what is happening. It is worth saying that the combination of rockwool and proper fire stopping should be sufficient anyway, and the design of the blocks is such that the cladding is only on the narrow sides, so they are nothing like Grenfell; still, I know I would prefer to be reassured.
Tuesday, 26 September 2017
Monday, 25 September 2017
AT THE EQUINOX
Tower Blocks
The vehicles around the foot of Princethorpe House, which caused me such anxiety because of their reversing alarms, turn out to be engaged in removing the cladding from the side of the block. This has also begun on Wilmcote House as well. The contractors appear to be throwing away both cladding panels and insulation. This is surprising, since residents were assured by CityWest Homes and Westminster City Council that the cladding was safe, with rockwool insulation and adequate fire stops between compartments. Now it's possible that the panels have failed the government tests, as most apparently have, so it might be appropriate to change those, but why dispose of rockwool insulation? It seems a bit fishy, and rather concerning. I will make enquiries.
A Trip to the Cinema
My neighbour (and old friend) the Vicar of St John's Wood and I went to see "Victoria and Abdul" at the cinema together. It was slightly bizarre to find that we were sharing a small sofa, clearly designed for customers desiring rather more physical intimacy than two middle-aged clergymen, but it was actually jolly comfortable. The film was great fun, with Judi Dench clearly enjoying herself hugely doing her Queen Victoria turn.again. I became concerned at one point that I was laughing too loudly, because it was genuinely funny. The late Tim Pigott-Smith gave another excellent performance as the Queen's Private Secretary, Sir Henry Ponsonby, whose brother was a famous Anglo-Catholic priest, the Vicar of St Mary Magdalene's, Munster Square. I found myself location-spotting (as one does when one's own premises get used as a location) and thinking that they must have used the Painted Hall at Greenwich right at the start of filming, because it has been full of scaffolding for ages. They had clearly been to Agra quite genuinely, though there was a horrible bit of CGI with the Taj Mahal at the end. Their great coup was to get permission to film at Osborne, which was so recognisably itself: no set designer would ever propose something as overbearingly ugly as the Durbar Hall, which still houses the vast carpet which was the beginning of the story. The film is thoroughly to be recommended.
Changing Police Priorities
The Police Ward Panel met recently in Paddington Green Police Station, which was a rare privilege. I think we were all rather childishly excited about penetrating behind the scenes at this formerly famous "high security police station". I remember that when we first came to London you would know that terrorists had been arrested by the television satellite vans parked outside Paddington Green. The building seems to be pretty much dormant now, pending its sale to the developers of the site next door, and we met in what was clearly the canteen. Proceedings were enlivened by the sight of a mouse crossing the illuminated panels in the suspended ceiling.The Superintendent was keen to hear our responses to the proposed further closures of police stations, including the loss of front desk facilities at Paddington Green, but I pointed out that for our people the pass has already been sold, as Harrow Road station was the one which was convenient for them to go to report things. That one is now being developed as luxury flats, and frankly Paddington Green was always a bus ride away, and so not much better than Kilburn or Charing Cross. The Met don't seem to want to interact with the public any more.
Bright College Days
At the weekend I attended an "Old Members' Gathering" at my Cambridge College, which was very enjoyable. It was rather reassuring to see how many of our contemporaries had been doing socially useful things for the past thirty years. There were one or two disillusioned doctors (and by the end of the evening very drunk doctors) and a number of people planning to do (or already doing) things that they really enjoyed and were interested in having given up climbing the greasy pole. This was a big contrast from last time, nearly ten years ago, when I remember a general crackle of careerism and networking. Some things about Cambridge are completely changeless, others much altered. In the latter category the rail service to Kings Cross, which enabled me to leave College just before 9 and be back to celebrate Mass at St Peter's at 11. Back in our day it was only electrified to Royston, and you had to change trains there, so the longer ride into Liverpool Street was the route I took more often. Some things do change for the better!
The vehicles around the foot of Princethorpe House, which caused me such anxiety because of their reversing alarms, turn out to be engaged in removing the cladding from the side of the block. This has also begun on Wilmcote House as well. The contractors appear to be throwing away both cladding panels and insulation. This is surprising, since residents were assured by CityWest Homes and Westminster City Council that the cladding was safe, with rockwool insulation and adequate fire stops between compartments. Now it's possible that the panels have failed the government tests, as most apparently have, so it might be appropriate to change those, but why dispose of rockwool insulation? It seems a bit fishy, and rather concerning. I will make enquiries.
A Trip to the Cinema
My neighbour (and old friend) the Vicar of St John's Wood and I went to see "Victoria and Abdul" at the cinema together. It was slightly bizarre to find that we were sharing a small sofa, clearly designed for customers desiring rather more physical intimacy than two middle-aged clergymen, but it was actually jolly comfortable. The film was great fun, with Judi Dench clearly enjoying herself hugely doing her Queen Victoria turn.again. I became concerned at one point that I was laughing too loudly, because it was genuinely funny. The late Tim Pigott-Smith gave another excellent performance as the Queen's Private Secretary, Sir Henry Ponsonby, whose brother was a famous Anglo-Catholic priest, the Vicar of St Mary Magdalene's, Munster Square. I found myself location-spotting (as one does when one's own premises get used as a location) and thinking that they must have used the Painted Hall at Greenwich right at the start of filming, because it has been full of scaffolding for ages. They had clearly been to Agra quite genuinely, though there was a horrible bit of CGI with the Taj Mahal at the end. Their great coup was to get permission to film at Osborne, which was so recognisably itself: no set designer would ever propose something as overbearingly ugly as the Durbar Hall, which still houses the vast carpet which was the beginning of the story. The film is thoroughly to be recommended.
Changing Police Priorities
The Police Ward Panel met recently in Paddington Green Police Station, which was a rare privilege. I think we were all rather childishly excited about penetrating behind the scenes at this formerly famous "high security police station". I remember that when we first came to London you would know that terrorists had been arrested by the television satellite vans parked outside Paddington Green. The building seems to be pretty much dormant now, pending its sale to the developers of the site next door, and we met in what was clearly the canteen. Proceedings were enlivened by the sight of a mouse crossing the illuminated panels in the suspended ceiling.The Superintendent was keen to hear our responses to the proposed further closures of police stations, including the loss of front desk facilities at Paddington Green, but I pointed out that for our people the pass has already been sold, as Harrow Road station was the one which was convenient for them to go to report things. That one is now being developed as luxury flats, and frankly Paddington Green was always a bus ride away, and so not much better than Kilburn or Charing Cross. The Met don't seem to want to interact with the public any more.
Bright College Days
At the weekend I attended an "Old Members' Gathering" at my Cambridge College, which was very enjoyable. It was rather reassuring to see how many of our contemporaries had been doing socially useful things for the past thirty years. There were one or two disillusioned doctors (and by the end of the evening very drunk doctors) and a number of people planning to do (or already doing) things that they really enjoyed and were interested in having given up climbing the greasy pole. This was a big contrast from last time, nearly ten years ago, when I remember a general crackle of careerism and networking. Some things about Cambridge are completely changeless, others much altered. In the latter category the rail service to Kings Cross, which enabled me to leave College just before 9 and be back to celebrate Mass at St Peter's at 11. Back in our day it was only electrified to Royston, and you had to change trains there, so the longer ride into Liverpool Street was the route I took more often. Some things do change for the better!
Tuesday, 19 September 2017
VEHICULAR WOES
The trouble with having a big building project on the go is
that it is very stressful. Inevitably there are things that nobody has
anticipated, which have to be paid for, so there’s stress about costs. More
stressful than that, though, for me is the problem of the builders upsetting
people. Our building site is right next to the Primary School, and so there are
obvious sensitivities, but the scope for annoying people is just vast, and it
is painful to me that my parishioners should be annoyed. One day last week I
was almost physically sick with worry at the breakfast table because I could hear a heavy vehicle’s
reversing alarm, and it was a time when we should not have had any lorries
moving anywhere near the site; I kept imagining the fury of the parents who
would be fearful for the safety of their children, and the fury of the head
teacher who would have been fielding the parents’ complaints. As it turned out,
I was worrying for nothing. It was nothing to do with us. CityWest Homes are
doing something to the tower block the other side of the school which involves
a crane, and that was where the alarm was coming from.
Today I helped to supervise the road crossing, where the
children interact with the traffic (in practice other children’s parents’
cars). If it helps everyone feel safe, it’s worth it.
This has become necessary because our scaffolding (behind its hoarding)
occupies almost the whole of the pavement alongside the church, and so after
the first day of school, it was felt that it was better to direct the children
a slightly longer way so that they wouldn’t walk through parked (or potentially
parking) cars. This means they have to cross Rowington Close. Since the only
traffic generally at that time is parents dropping children, you would suppose
that it should be straightforward, but it seems not. We’re offering a bit of
supervision to see that order prevails. The most dangerous thing I saw today was a mother nearly running over her own child (at very low speed).
The very worst bit of parking I’ve seen recently was at
Regent’s Park, where I cycle. Hanover Gate meets the Outer Circle in a T junction; this is
controlled by traffic lights, and there are pedestrian crossings on each arm.
The car was parked between the two crossings, exactly opposite the other arm of
the junction; of course it was on a double yellow line. I couldn’t work out why
this was a good place to park, because it’s not particularly convenient for
anything. You see taxis and minicabs stop to set people down in illegal places,
but generally there is some reason for why they have stopped at that particular
point, and they will move off again in a couple of minutes. This car, on the
other hand, was just parked next to the hedge around the Park, and stayed there
for a couple of hours at least, on a weekday evening. Bizarre.
As to bad driving, a black cab on Saturday afternoon worried me. I
was overtaken by a young man on a time trial bike, and then by an occupied cab. As it
came alongside the bike the cab began to flash its lights, and clearly started
to slow down and bear in towards the pavement. The cyclist was forced into the
back of a line of parked cars and had to stop. The cab driver suddenly
accelerated away; I passed him letting his passengers out a hundred yards
further on. Odd and dangerous behaviour.
Totally inexplicable was the 31 bus which, stationary at the
traffic lights at the T junction at the bottom of Chippenham Road, suddenly
decided to move away during the pedestrian phase of the lights, sailing across
two pedestrian crossings where the signal was green for pedestrians. It was not
as if he was anticipating his own phase, either, as that was not the next
phase. Anyway, the lights were clearly red. Nor was he slipping through at the
end of his phase; he was stationary for perhaps a minute and then just took it
into his head to go, for no discernible reason. Astonishing.
The traffic is particularly heavy on Chippenham Road up to
the traffic lights outside St Peter’s, because of roadworks on Elgin Avenue.
Buses are diverted, which makes it all much worse. Every so often, though, you
see someone lose patience with queuing and simply pull out and overtake the
queue as it starts to move. Perhaps it’s not so dangerous (if you know the
sequence of the lights) but it’s just deeply anti-social. Watching this from
the Office the other day I was moved to ponder the value of queuing. We always
used to say that we thought if the EU was in the business of standardisation
then we should all have standardised French bank holidays and British queues. Because the
queue really is a thing of virtue, and it is profoundly democratic. I remember
being struck, in Bologna Station a few years ago, to notice that the advance
ticket window was now protected by an automatic door, so only the person first
in line could get there, because I’m sure many of us will have had the
experience at an Italian ticket window of someone coming up beside you, or over
your shoulder, and engaging the ticket clerk in conversation while they are
supposed to be attending to you. Obviously the other person’s business is very
important, or urgent, or simple to resolve and so they know you won’t mind; but
That’s Not The Point. You wait your turn. That’s how it’s done in a civilised
society. You will notice that the airlines strive to maintain class privilege
by having a separate queue for club or business class passengers, and we can
bear that, because we feel that the basic queue is not being significantly
undermined by that, but just marching to the head of the queue is never
acceptable. It’s not just the Brits being anal, it’s actually about democracy.
Friday, 8 September 2017
CONSIDER THE LILIES
The Birds of the Air
We have a very healthy colony of wood pigeons around us at the moment; sometimes you can see a dozen together, feeding on the grass behind the flats, or denuding trees of berries. They always look fat and prosperous. Mysteriously I found one with a broken neck on my lawn a couple of mornings ago, presumably killed by a cat, but if so the cat had made no attempt to eat it. Casimir? Hardly. He ignored it when I found it, and I'm fairly sure it wasn't there when he came in the previous night. Perhaps this is the work of the cat he fights with, trying to show how tough it is. Meanwhile, the swans on the canal have cygnets that are almost full size. There's one pair with two, and another pair with seven, which is an amazing achievement. Cycling along the canal reveals that there are large colonies of swans, and we only get errant pairs; the occasional pair nests on the island in the Pool, but we almost never get the quantities you see around Alperton or Southall. I'm pleased to see we have a pair of Egyptian geese again, as they are just charming birds. Bizarrely there was a salmon's head on the cycle path the other day, cut clean off, and more bizarrely, split in half, Damien Hirst-wise. This was not the result of bird activity!
Harrow Road Fashions
I am well aware that I am not particularly well-placed to pass comment on people who dress unusually, but there have been one or two characters about recently. This morning on the Harrow Road I saw someone who might have come from the retreat from Moscow; he appeared to be wearing a carpet and carrying an unfeasibly large number of things. Admittedly he did not have an 1812 musket, but instead had a large umbrella in a decorative cover. He also had grey dreadlocks emerging from his hooped woolly hat. Presumably an authentic gentleman of the road. There is a mother who I often see taking her child to school whose make-up always impresses me (it is very professional), and she teams it with carefully teased and highlighted frizzy hair and leopard-print leggings. Always cheers me up. Then there's a chap of Caribbean background who cycles in a little West African hat, and whose clothing is always impressively layered, with a definitely "ethnic" flavour, but I couldn't tell you which specific ethnos.
Panic Over
Last night I had a big scare. A plumber had been installing a new boiler, at the back of the garage, to replace one which failed last week, so I had taken the car and the bikes out of the garage. When he went home he told me he would be back in the morning to finish off and said he had left the garage door closed. After dinner I went out to put the car and bikes away, but when I went to open the garage door I found the knob rotated freely without achieving anything, and then it came away in my hand. The door was securely closed, though unlocked, with car and bikes outside (which, I suppose, was less disastrous than it might have been). There is no other way in. I texted the plumber, suggesting he bring tools to try to fix it in the morning. He rang me almost immediately, which was very sweet, wondering what he had done, and was confident we could fix it in the morning. I was less so, and spent some time on the internet trying to find suggestions, which was pretty fruitless, because people are only interested in electronic doors these days. I brought the bikes into the hall, and spent a sleepless night. When the plumber rang the bell this morning I was astonished to open the door to find that he had the garage door open already. He had moved the lever inside with a long screwdriver. Last night |I couldn't see anything to be moved when I looked into the hole, but I was hugely relieved. The pin holding the knob to the shaft had simply corroded away. so I found a new pin of suitable size and he fixed it. Panic over.
Deliveries
One of the advantages of having a building site on your doorstep is that it is somewhere for deliveries to be made. This week I had some new vestments coming, and the suppliers were anxious that they needed to be signed for, so I told them to deliver them to Lee in the site office if I was out. That all happened very smoothly (I had warned Lee) even if it was a bit incongruous for all concerned. To be fair, I have taken in deliveries for the site as well, particularly at the start, when they were all working in the school. Blessedly, the work in the school was finished in the nick of time, despite the best efforts of the gas people, so they only had one day of cold lunch (it might have been so much worse). At the moment repairs are going on to the school's automatic gates, as Cadent (the gas people) managed to sever the cable that controlled them (which, to be fair, wasn't buried at the correct depth). The contractors have allocated a man to be gatekeeper pending the repair, which frankly gives the school more security than the automatic gates. We are all going to know each other well by the end of this.
We have a very healthy colony of wood pigeons around us at the moment; sometimes you can see a dozen together, feeding on the grass behind the flats, or denuding trees of berries. They always look fat and prosperous. Mysteriously I found one with a broken neck on my lawn a couple of mornings ago, presumably killed by a cat, but if so the cat had made no attempt to eat it. Casimir? Hardly. He ignored it when I found it, and I'm fairly sure it wasn't there when he came in the previous night. Perhaps this is the work of the cat he fights with, trying to show how tough it is. Meanwhile, the swans on the canal have cygnets that are almost full size. There's one pair with two, and another pair with seven, which is an amazing achievement. Cycling along the canal reveals that there are large colonies of swans, and we only get errant pairs; the occasional pair nests on the island in the Pool, but we almost never get the quantities you see around Alperton or Southall. I'm pleased to see we have a pair of Egyptian geese again, as they are just charming birds. Bizarrely there was a salmon's head on the cycle path the other day, cut clean off, and more bizarrely, split in half, Damien Hirst-wise. This was not the result of bird activity!
Harrow Road Fashions
I am well aware that I am not particularly well-placed to pass comment on people who dress unusually, but there have been one or two characters about recently. This morning on the Harrow Road I saw someone who might have come from the retreat from Moscow; he appeared to be wearing a carpet and carrying an unfeasibly large number of things. Admittedly he did not have an 1812 musket, but instead had a large umbrella in a decorative cover. He also had grey dreadlocks emerging from his hooped woolly hat. Presumably an authentic gentleman of the road. There is a mother who I often see taking her child to school whose make-up always impresses me (it is very professional), and she teams it with carefully teased and highlighted frizzy hair and leopard-print leggings. Always cheers me up. Then there's a chap of Caribbean background who cycles in a little West African hat, and whose clothing is always impressively layered, with a definitely "ethnic" flavour, but I couldn't tell you which specific ethnos.
Panic Over
Last night I had a big scare. A plumber had been installing a new boiler, at the back of the garage, to replace one which failed last week, so I had taken the car and the bikes out of the garage. When he went home he told me he would be back in the morning to finish off and said he had left the garage door closed. After dinner I went out to put the car and bikes away, but when I went to open the garage door I found the knob rotated freely without achieving anything, and then it came away in my hand. The door was securely closed, though unlocked, with car and bikes outside (which, I suppose, was less disastrous than it might have been). There is no other way in. I texted the plumber, suggesting he bring tools to try to fix it in the morning. He rang me almost immediately, which was very sweet, wondering what he had done, and was confident we could fix it in the morning. I was less so, and spent some time on the internet trying to find suggestions, which was pretty fruitless, because people are only interested in electronic doors these days. I brought the bikes into the hall, and spent a sleepless night. When the plumber rang the bell this morning I was astonished to open the door to find that he had the garage door open already. He had moved the lever inside with a long screwdriver. Last night |I couldn't see anything to be moved when I looked into the hole, but I was hugely relieved. The pin holding the knob to the shaft had simply corroded away. so I found a new pin of suitable size and he fixed it. Panic over.
Deliveries
One of the advantages of having a building site on your doorstep is that it is somewhere for deliveries to be made. This week I had some new vestments coming, and the suppliers were anxious that they needed to be signed for, so I told them to deliver them to Lee in the site office if I was out. That all happened very smoothly (I had warned Lee) even if it was a bit incongruous for all concerned. To be fair, I have taken in deliveries for the site as well, particularly at the start, when they were all working in the school. Blessedly, the work in the school was finished in the nick of time, despite the best efforts of the gas people, so they only had one day of cold lunch (it might have been so much worse). At the moment repairs are going on to the school's automatic gates, as Cadent (the gas people) managed to sever the cable that controlled them (which, to be fair, wasn't buried at the correct depth). The contractors have allocated a man to be gatekeeper pending the repair, which frankly gives the school more security than the automatic gates. We are all going to know each other well by the end of this.
Thursday, 31 August 2017
CARNIVAL TIME
No, Don't...
If you are a long-term reader of this blog you may remember that the former MP for Kensington, Lady Borwick, was a great opponent of the Notting Hill Carnival, but did not succeed in her aim to at least re-route it, if not suppress it. This year's Carnival, though, had the strangest build-up in recent years, as there was a real question of whether it was appropriate so soon after the Grenfell Tower disaster. Now anybody I spoke to who was actually from the Latimer Road area seemed clear that the Carnival should certainly go ahead, as an expression of community solidarity and resilience, which is indeed what happened, but it was good to see that outsiders were sensitive to the idea that they might be dancing on people's graves. I didn't envy the police their task, though, because on top of the usual public order issues with a million people on the streets there was talk of some North London gang, one of whose members was shot a few days before, coming down to exact revenge, and then there was the obvious terrorist threat. I'm not sure what the correct name is for the enormous steel obstacles that they put in place at the end of Westbourne Grove, but the journalistic "ring of steel" sums it up. All in all it seems to have gone well, with the best weather for years.
Scaffolding Goes Up
Meanwhile, the scaffolding creeps up around St Mary Mags. Last weekend we found that the nice open area outside the Vestry was now full of scaffold legs, which was a bit intimidating, but we could still reach the door. As I watched it go up along the south side I became increasingly fretful, as I thought we had cut back the scaffolding from what was originally planned, as we had economised on the external brick and stone repairs as we were trying to cut the cost back to fit the budget. The scaffold that was going up looked like the original design, not the cheaper one. When I expressed my anxiety about this, I was told that we had discovered that our conservative costing policy had actually meant that we had the money to do it as originally planned, and so it was going ahead. No mistake. No problem. No word to the client, though!
The Gas Man Cometh
The first works that have to be done are in the school. Obviously they need to be done before the children come back, next week. This has not been going well. Most spectacularly, the gas contractors are giving us real grief. You may not be familiar with Cadent, but they are the gas main bit of National Grid, rebranded, and we have been in contact with them since March because we need to move the gas main and the school's meters. When they came to cut off the old supply they managed to discover that this supply only fed the boilers, and not the kitchen, so at that point they just went away. Our contractors then found the second main, and we got them back. So both were purged and capped. Now they are back on site to do the new connection, at the last possible minute. They have managed to cut through the electricity supply to the school gate, but that's a small matter compared to the slowness of their working. A separate organisation then has to come and install the meters, which no-one told us until three weeks ago. Fortunately we were able to get them to come, but they are booked for tomorrow, and it won't be ready for tomorrow, so now we shall have to book them again, and when will they come? When will the school have its gas supply back? We had a very uncomfortable meeting with the Head Teacher, who was understandably agitated and displeased. It is very unpleasant being responsible for something going wrong that is entirely out of your control.
If you are a long-term reader of this blog you may remember that the former MP for Kensington, Lady Borwick, was a great opponent of the Notting Hill Carnival, but did not succeed in her aim to at least re-route it, if not suppress it. This year's Carnival, though, had the strangest build-up in recent years, as there was a real question of whether it was appropriate so soon after the Grenfell Tower disaster. Now anybody I spoke to who was actually from the Latimer Road area seemed clear that the Carnival should certainly go ahead, as an expression of community solidarity and resilience, which is indeed what happened, but it was good to see that outsiders were sensitive to the idea that they might be dancing on people's graves. I didn't envy the police their task, though, because on top of the usual public order issues with a million people on the streets there was talk of some North London gang, one of whose members was shot a few days before, coming down to exact revenge, and then there was the obvious terrorist threat. I'm not sure what the correct name is for the enormous steel obstacles that they put in place at the end of Westbourne Grove, but the journalistic "ring of steel" sums it up. All in all it seems to have gone well, with the best weather for years.
Scaffolding Goes Up
Meanwhile, the scaffolding creeps up around St Mary Mags. Last weekend we found that the nice open area outside the Vestry was now full of scaffold legs, which was a bit intimidating, but we could still reach the door. As I watched it go up along the south side I became increasingly fretful, as I thought we had cut back the scaffolding from what was originally planned, as we had economised on the external brick and stone repairs as we were trying to cut the cost back to fit the budget. The scaffold that was going up looked like the original design, not the cheaper one. When I expressed my anxiety about this, I was told that we had discovered that our conservative costing policy had actually meant that we had the money to do it as originally planned, and so it was going ahead. No mistake. No problem. No word to the client, though!
The Gas Man Cometh
The first works that have to be done are in the school. Obviously they need to be done before the children come back, next week. This has not been going well. Most spectacularly, the gas contractors are giving us real grief. You may not be familiar with Cadent, but they are the gas main bit of National Grid, rebranded, and we have been in contact with them since March because we need to move the gas main and the school's meters. When they came to cut off the old supply they managed to discover that this supply only fed the boilers, and not the kitchen, so at that point they just went away. Our contractors then found the second main, and we got them back. So both were purged and capped. Now they are back on site to do the new connection, at the last possible minute. They have managed to cut through the electricity supply to the school gate, but that's a small matter compared to the slowness of their working. A separate organisation then has to come and install the meters, which no-one told us until three weeks ago. Fortunately we were able to get them to come, but they are booked for tomorrow, and it won't be ready for tomorrow, so now we shall have to book them again, and when will they come? When will the school have its gas supply back? We had a very uncomfortable meeting with the Head Teacher, who was understandably agitated and displeased. It is very unpleasant being responsible for something going wrong that is entirely out of your control.
Monday, 21 August 2017
ON SITE
Stolen Property
If someone offers you some cheap four-by-two in the pub
tonight, please don’t take him up on it, but pass his name on to your local
police. I had heard mutterings about how big a deal theft from building sites
is, but now I know for myself. I presume someone had been watching as our site
developed, so on Sunday morning I came to church to find a panel of Heras
fencing alarmingly overhanging the steps down to the vestry. On investigating,
I found that several panels of fencing had been lifted from their bases and
heaved up to allow access to the building materials stored behind the fence. A
couple of (vast) sheets of plywood were sitting disconsolately in the grass. A
churchwarden and I manoeuvred the fencing back into position, as best we could,
but one panel was horribly twisted; it had been chained to our railings, and
that fixing had held secure, but then the whole thing had been rotated around
that. I texted the Site Manager to let him know. This morning he told me that
there had been a quantity of timber stored there which had totally vanished.
Ironically, it’s the timber they are using to build the proper hoarding around
the site to make it more secure. You can see through Heras fencing, you see,
and be tempted, whereas a nice old-fashioned solid hoarding doesn’t present the
same temptations.
Budding Banksies
The drawback with a proper hoarding is that it provides a
fine blank canvas for graffiti artists, and indeed our new hoarding acquired
its first graffiti at the weekend. Our strategy there is to fix up on the
hoarding panels that have been painted by local people. At the Westbourne Festival,
at the beginning of July, we had a workshop for local young people, which was
led by a graffiti artist, creating all sorts of strange images to go up on the
hoarding. The artist came back later and finished it all off, and just now the
panels are waiting to be fixed onto the hoarding. It will be a lot more
interesting than a blank hoarding, and the hope is that what is essentially
graffiti art should not attract further graffiti. I hope it works.
Enter the Scaffolders
Today, things are getting very serious. The scaffolders are
on site, starting to erect the exterior scaffolding (which needs to be done
before the hoarding is finished). This is a trivial job compared to the
interior scaffolding, which is going to take weeks to put up. I have to say that
they are very quiet at the moment, certainly compared to other scaffolders of
whom I’ve had experience; everyone involved in the construction industry
regards scaffolders as a breed apart, and they seem to do their best to live up
to expectations.
Organ Builders Too
The organ builders have also turned up to dismantle a few
pipes, take down the ornamental pipes, and seal up the opening of the organ
chamber that contains the main banks of pipes. Getting them here has been a bit
of a pantomime, as they and the contractors exchanged mutually uncomprehending
messages. They seemed very resistant to the idea that they had to have proper
protective clothing since it was now a building site, but they’ve clearly been
allowed on site, so I presume they came with the proper gear after all. I now
need to retrieve from them the three sets of keys to the church that they have
held onto; they like to have their own keys so that they can come and go at
their convenience, but that won’t work in the future. In the short term, we
need to make sure that access to the site is controlled so that we don’t
invalidate our insurance, but when the work is done, the church will be in use
far more, and it won’t be possible for them to turn up to tune the organ when
it suits them, as they have been accustomed to do. They will need to arrange
visits properly with the building manager. Organ tuners get very proprietorial
about the organs that they look after, and I can understand that, but they do
sometimes make you feel that they are doing you a favour by allowing you to use
the organ for something as trivial as accompanying services.
Furniture To The Third World
Meanwhile the school’s dining tables are being removed. We
have had to reconfigure the school kitchen slightly to enable us to build the
new wing, but that has reduced the space in which to store the dining tables.
After struggling with various expensive options, our architect, with a
brilliant piece of lateral thinking, discovered that more efficient tables were
available. So now the new tables have arrived, and the old tables (with
integral seating) are going to be shipped to Africa by a charity that
specialises in this sort of thing. With them are going a load of church chairs,
not nice enough for any congregation here, but still functional. I had hoped
they would go to Jamaica (as we have a number of Jamaicans living locally) but
it seems they’ve finished that project, and so they will be going somewhere in
Africa. We are desperate to know where.
Thursday, 3 August 2017
WORK IN PROGRESS
Men At Work
First, a mountain of chipboard was delivered. Some of this was then put down on the nave floor, which, as things were progressively removed, gradually got covered. I came in and saw a small golden arch leaning against a pillar, and wondered excitedly what it could be; it was only when I saw it from another angle that I realised that it was the frame of a grand piano, now completely destroyed. The labourers seem to be quite efficient at smashing things up. Then the carpenters moved in and started constructing boxes, so the marble balustrade (Martin Travers, 1923) got boxed in, along with the chancel steps. At this point, all the furniture marked for storage had been moved downstairs into the Comper Chapel, awaiting the arrival of the container in which it is to be stored.
Then, on Tuesday, the containers arrived. I don't think I had been conscious of how many there were to be, or how much space they would really occupy. I had looked at the plans of the site compound, but somehow never really put it together in my head. So, they came at a nice quiet time of day, and just two parking suspensions did the job to enable the lorries to get access. That all happened smoothly, and quietly. We are undeniably occupying quite a big portion of the park, though a portion that no-one actually uses for anything. We have had to be terribly careful about the trees, despite the fact that the trees are a public nuisance, and ought to be cut down and replaced. They are black poplars, which are notorious for dropping boughs without warning, which in my view makes them unsuitable to line a path through a park. As a cyclist on that cycle path you really feel threatened whenever the wind blows, but the alarming thing is the way that boughs drop off without warning when it isn't windy. I have a particular dislike of the one tree which is out of alignment with the others (which are along the path) because it deposits lots of leaves in our gutters, and until it was pruned recently had a branch which threatened our north wall. I can't prove that it was this tree's roots that were found in our old drains, blocking them, but I am morally certain of it.
The last couple of days have become noisy, though. Pneumatic drills and Kango hammers have appeared now, as the steps down into the school yard have been deconstructed, and the hideous wall closing in the north porch has been demolished. This is undeniably noisy, and it is good to get it done during the holiday. Last week the surface of the school yard was taken up, and a climbing frame taken down, to be relocated, but those weren't particularly noisy
Welcome Visitors
Oddly, this week we have had a couple of last-minute visitors wanting to see the church. One was a charming man in publishing, who lives locally, and I don't entirely understand how he had missed all the public open days and events which we've put on, let alone the simple method of asking me for a visit. Anyway, he came via PDT, and Toby and I had a pleasant time showing him round despite the onward march of the chipboard. He very kindly gave us macaroons as a thank you. Then, out of the blue, Fr Graeme Rowlands, from St Silas, Kentish Town, called to ask whether he could bring a server and show him the church. They had a whole day of visiting great Anglo-Catholic churches, of which we were the last (I scheduled them for after the builders would have gone home). It was good to see the lad's enthusiasm. Fr Rowlands told me that he had first sought the church out after seeing photos of it in a book called "This Our Sacrifice", illustrating how Low Mass was celebrated using the old ritual. The book title rang bells for me, and I went home and duly found it in my study. Clearly I had not looked at it in more than ten years, as I had no idea the pictures were of us. The photos illustrate the sanctuary in 1949, which is fascinating to see (contemporary with "The Blue Lamp" being filmed outside). We still use the chasuble that is being used, and I have just found the altar cards (though they are much decayed). It was pleasing to see the tabernacle unveiled, so my leaving the veils off has good precedent.
Visitors
Some of my regular callers have reappeared rather surprisingly.The Man With A Stab Wound has tracked me down, whereas he only used to come to the Office. This is not helpful. Vouchers and Foodbank referrals are kept at the Office, not at home. He is unable to accept the answer "No". The Pakistani Christian has also reappeared, making a speciality of Sunday evening, when I expect a ring on the doorbell to be the tenant church. It seems he is being housed, which is very good news. He still wants me to pay for an Oyster card. I don't query the logic of asking me when he is supposed to be in Hounslow. The Small Irishman has also reappeared, and says he is being housed in Enfield; it is reassuring to see him, as he had disappeared for a couple of years, and I thought he might be dead. He insists that I take his cashcard to reimburse what I lend him. When I try to do so the PIN doesn't work. And then there is The Small Angry Woman With Dog, who has kept clear of us for a couple of years, since we had to get the police to remove her from a PCC meeting. Suddenly she has reappeared, spectacularly at the end of the Mass on St Mary Magdalene's Day, complete with what appears to be a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy, which she cannot control. Her problems have not changed. Sometimes one has to accept that there are situations which one cannot solve. Offering a bit of care is about the best we can do, and pray.
First, a mountain of chipboard was delivered. Some of this was then put down on the nave floor, which, as things were progressively removed, gradually got covered. I came in and saw a small golden arch leaning against a pillar, and wondered excitedly what it could be; it was only when I saw it from another angle that I realised that it was the frame of a grand piano, now completely destroyed. The labourers seem to be quite efficient at smashing things up. Then the carpenters moved in and started constructing boxes, so the marble balustrade (Martin Travers, 1923) got boxed in, along with the chancel steps. At this point, all the furniture marked for storage had been moved downstairs into the Comper Chapel, awaiting the arrival of the container in which it is to be stored.
Then, on Tuesday, the containers arrived. I don't think I had been conscious of how many there were to be, or how much space they would really occupy. I had looked at the plans of the site compound, but somehow never really put it together in my head. So, they came at a nice quiet time of day, and just two parking suspensions did the job to enable the lorries to get access. That all happened smoothly, and quietly. We are undeniably occupying quite a big portion of the park, though a portion that no-one actually uses for anything. We have had to be terribly careful about the trees, despite the fact that the trees are a public nuisance, and ought to be cut down and replaced. They are black poplars, which are notorious for dropping boughs without warning, which in my view makes them unsuitable to line a path through a park. As a cyclist on that cycle path you really feel threatened whenever the wind blows, but the alarming thing is the way that boughs drop off without warning when it isn't windy. I have a particular dislike of the one tree which is out of alignment with the others (which are along the path) because it deposits lots of leaves in our gutters, and until it was pruned recently had a branch which threatened our north wall. I can't prove that it was this tree's roots that were found in our old drains, blocking them, but I am morally certain of it.
The last couple of days have become noisy, though. Pneumatic drills and Kango hammers have appeared now, as the steps down into the school yard have been deconstructed, and the hideous wall closing in the north porch has been demolished. This is undeniably noisy, and it is good to get it done during the holiday. Last week the surface of the school yard was taken up, and a climbing frame taken down, to be relocated, but those weren't particularly noisy
Welcome Visitors
Oddly, this week we have had a couple of last-minute visitors wanting to see the church. One was a charming man in publishing, who lives locally, and I don't entirely understand how he had missed all the public open days and events which we've put on, let alone the simple method of asking me for a visit. Anyway, he came via PDT, and Toby and I had a pleasant time showing him round despite the onward march of the chipboard. He very kindly gave us macaroons as a thank you. Then, out of the blue, Fr Graeme Rowlands, from St Silas, Kentish Town, called to ask whether he could bring a server and show him the church. They had a whole day of visiting great Anglo-Catholic churches, of which we were the last (I scheduled them for after the builders would have gone home). It was good to see the lad's enthusiasm. Fr Rowlands told me that he had first sought the church out after seeing photos of it in a book called "This Our Sacrifice", illustrating how Low Mass was celebrated using the old ritual. The book title rang bells for me, and I went home and duly found it in my study. Clearly I had not looked at it in more than ten years, as I had no idea the pictures were of us. The photos illustrate the sanctuary in 1949, which is fascinating to see (contemporary with "The Blue Lamp" being filmed outside). We still use the chasuble that is being used, and I have just found the altar cards (though they are much decayed). It was pleasing to see the tabernacle unveiled, so my leaving the veils off has good precedent.
Visitors
Some of my regular callers have reappeared rather surprisingly.The Man With A Stab Wound has tracked me down, whereas he only used to come to the Office. This is not helpful. Vouchers and Foodbank referrals are kept at the Office, not at home. He is unable to accept the answer "No". The Pakistani Christian has also reappeared, making a speciality of Sunday evening, when I expect a ring on the doorbell to be the tenant church. It seems he is being housed, which is very good news. He still wants me to pay for an Oyster card. I don't query the logic of asking me when he is supposed to be in Hounslow. The Small Irishman has also reappeared, and says he is being housed in Enfield; it is reassuring to see him, as he had disappeared for a couple of years, and I thought he might be dead. He insists that I take his cashcard to reimburse what I lend him. When I try to do so the PIN doesn't work. And then there is The Small Angry Woman With Dog, who has kept clear of us for a couple of years, since we had to get the police to remove her from a PCC meeting. Suddenly she has reappeared, spectacularly at the end of the Mass on St Mary Magdalene's Day, complete with what appears to be a Rhodesian Ridgeback puppy, which she cannot control. Her problems have not changed. Sometimes one has to accept that there are situations which one cannot solve. Offering a bit of care is about the best we can do, and pray.
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