Just Another Brick In The Wall

So, when we last spoke, I had been clearing the back garden ready for the builders. Note the thickness of the stem of this ivy. That is some serious gardening neglect you are looking at there.

There was also a bit of paver lifting to do as we decommissioned the automatic irrigation system. The control box was set into the paving precisely where the new wall was planned to go.  Check the lean on the pier at right there....

 The bobcats did their job.

That would be a hole.

This is how the bobcat got into our backyard.

And we thought there would be a demure ramp like structure. Pfffft.

Here are the builder/s bringing in the RSJs for the uprights.

And here they are, all in place waiting for their sleepers.

I hope you are noticing the state of our backyard in the interim?????????

Next day, the sleepers arrived. Unfortunately the automatic 'lifter' could not access our steep garden so the lads had to heft them down the stairs, one by one. 100kg each. 38C.

 

I knew there was a reason I went to University.

 Here, the first sleepers slip into place.

By the end of the day...

Now here is a challenge. Spot the difference between this picture....

And this one....

And the answer is.....significantly less dirt over the lower level (oh and they had started the return on the stairs). They used the dirt to backfill behind the new wall. Sadly for any future gardening plans, it was depressingly white.

So here is the finished wall. I'm afraid the overall effect is not all that pretty...yet. But what I want you to focus on is that rather dark pile in the top left hand corner of this last photo. That one was going to come back to bite me in the coming days.

'Neath The Dear Garden Wall

 

Those of you who are family or at least longtime readers, may remember the makeover my dad and I did on the garden at Australiana House. Well, Himself and I are about to work some magic on our back garden right here and now! Here is the old garden.

 

 This was taken about 5 years ago when it didn't look quite as bad. Nevertheless there were roses in front of the retaining wall which grew up viciously in summer and stabbed anyone walking past the pool (on the upper level). There was also the Alcatraz like pool fence and the lack of any obvious place for entertaining. We tried putting a table and chairs down on the pavers at the far end, but it was in a traffic corridor and did not work.

In addition, to the extreme left of the above photo you would find the delightful patchwork shadehouse and paved BBQ area Himself created.

 With the two foot of dirt where the lawn refused to grow.

A few years on and you can definitely see the bulge in the middle pier of the retaining wall. Termites were at work.

Here's the view from the pool looking back towards the house. Yes, that would be the entire, unsightly collection of pool workings, there on the right of the picture. Nice.

After a few years, during which we realised that we rarely used the seating up on the pool level (well you have to climb over a bunch of rocks to get there...)

we moved the table and umbrella down to the lower level.

As you can see, it is cramped and inconvenient as Himself will not let us leave chairs and tables on the grass (because it kills said grass).  Note also the infamous retaining wall, now swathed in roses, ivy and sword ferns; leaning precariously, well off vertical, in places!
 

So, with the arrival of our second, undeserved but incredibly appreciated, windfall, we have commenced the garden makeover.

Our aims are to:
 a) obviously, replace/repair the retaining wall
 b) create an entertaining area
 c) make better use of the existing space
 d) replace the existing ancient pool workings with smaller, more efficient, modern gear which will 
     hopefully lower our power bills and reduce the amount of time Himself spends trying to keep it
     from going green. At the same time we hope to re-site the equipment so that the area around the
     pool is clear.

 

So the first step was to deconstruct the shadehouse. No2 son actually proved useful for once although he left the  mass of ivy for me to deal with.

The shot above was taken after I had dealt with the ivy that came down with the shadehouse. Now to deal with the wall....

Two hours later:

Later that night No2 Son again made himself useful and took down the Alcatraz fence. Once it was gone I was more determined than ever that it would NEVER go back up!!

The next day this little beauty turned up in my yard.

And the trashing began.

Musical Crews: On My Word, Everyone Change Partners!

So, I promised I'd tell you about the launching and maiden voyage of 'Retaining Wall'.
(This of course is not the real name of his boat, but as far as I am concerned it is
'Retaining Wall').

Some background:

Himself sailed in Jester for about 5 years with No 2 Son as his crew.

This worked well as No 2 Son learned the skills of crewing and the vagaries of sailing and was, at the time, a nice, lightweight foil for Himself's rather generous proportions.

In 2009/10, No 2 Son moved on to crew with a very experienced female skipper and together they were runners-up for the state titles twice. Himself on the other hand, attempted to coerce Small Boy into crewing with him. After a promising start, Small Boy could not cope with the amount of yelling and ordering about endured by most crews, and handed out liberally by Himself; he lasted two races.That was the season I made my debut as ill-fated (and last resort) crew.

Last year, 2010/11 season, Himself got together with the nephew of one of the other sailors and had a good season, winning the Club Championship on handicap (always a bitter pill though) but, more importantly, gaining a trophy for 'Consistency'. We managed to frighten that young man off however, and at the end of the season he announced he was going to sail 420s as 'there are a lot more young people' sailing in that class. That, at least, was the reason he gave.

And so we come to the 2011/12 season.

As many of you will know, Himself deemed a new boat more important than a retaining wall, even though he had not yet found anyone to crew with him this year. No 2 Son and his lady skipper had finished up together at the end of last season but he was not a candidate because he is too heavy now to sail competitively with his dad. Himself's solution was to give No 2 Son the old boat, Bad Jester, so that he can learn to skipper, and once more try to coerce Small Boy into crewing on the new boat, Retaining Wall. Much to my surprise, Small Boy agreed, even going so far as to drive down to Victoria with Himself, to pick the new boat up.

No 2 Son thought he had a mate to crew for him but this fell through. Out of the blue, No 1 Son, whom we rarely see nowadays, expressed an interest in sailing with his brother. Now, not only has No 1 Son been previously reluctant to sail, but given the combative nature of their sibling relationship, I was surprised No 2 Son was even considering it. But, consider it he did.

So, to recap:

Retaining Wall:
Skipper: Himself
Attitude: Keen as mustard/highly competitive
Experience: lengthy and successful

Crew: Small Boy
Attitude: terrified and guilt ridden
Experience: nil

Bad Jester:
Skipper: No 2 Son
Attitude: nervous/insecure, but keen
Experience: virtually nil

Crew: Possibly No 1 Son
Attitude: doesn't like being told what to do
Experience: as above

Meanwhile, it transpired that Small Boy had a school friend who was also keen to learn to sail. His family had been into sailing, before the divorce, and he had never had an opportunity to actually learn, so when he heard that there were crew seats possibly still available, he was beside himself with excitement. The only problem was that this crew seat was with No 2 Son.

Now I don't talk too much about No 2 Son here as he has made it known that he does not like being plastered across the internet; but suffice to say that he is a rather intense young man with many Aspergery traits and a moderate case of dyspraxia to boot. Social skills and clear communication are not his forte and the idea of him trying to teach someone else (and a little kid at that!) to crew whilst learning to skipper himself was possibly the most convincing recipe for disaster that I have ever heard put forward! I communicated this to Himself who was gracious enough to acknowledge that it could be a problem. There did not seem to be an immediate answer to the dilemma and so as the first 'try out' race of the season approached, it seemed that FOSB (Friend of Small Boy) would be taking the crew's seat for No 2 Son.

With a stroke of providence from the Divine, No 2 son was struck down with a bad shoulder on the day of the trial race. This meant that Himself would take 'Retaining Wall' down to the beach, give FOSB a quick ride and then go out for the race with Small Boy whilst I, the inveterate non sailor, babysat FOSB on the shore.

That's FOSB looking keen in the red shorts. That's Small Boy looking like he can't get away fast enough to the right!

Himself was keen. He was really keen. He was so keen he wore silly sailing clothes.


As Himself was preparing the boat, Small Boy informed me in defiant tones, that he had hurt his leg and that no-one was listening to him and everyone thought he was faking but that his leg really hurt and he didn't know how he was going to sail with such a sore leg! A wave of inevitability washed over me and I brought the dilemma to Himself's attention.

Himself stormed around for a minute but quickly saw the immediate solution.
FOSB would crew for him in the trial race.

Look how excited he is!

To be fair, he initially got very excited about the idea, asking lots of questions and climbing enthusiastically into Small Boy's specialist gear. Small Boy stomped about, or rather limped about in an exaggerated fashion, with a brow like a thundercloud and the inevitable "No-one believes me.." echoing repeatedly from his lips...no mean feat considering the prominence of said lower lip.

Speaking of thunderclouds, as preparations were reaching a peak, the wind began to pick up.

The moment of Christening had arrived.


I grasped the champagne bottle and drew the cork.
"I christen thee Retaining Wall and God bless all who sail in thee..."
(thinks: ugh, maybe a few too many 'thees' in there....)

One of the other gentlemen approached me afterwards;
"That the first christening you've done then?"
"Uhhh, ye-es.." (thinks, 'where's he going with this..?')
"So how do you think it went?"
"Ummmmm..."
"Room for some improvement you think?"
Rats. I knew there were too many 'thees'.....


The gang began the process of getting the boat into the water.

All seemed to be under control so I turned my back, momentarily, to put something further up the beach. When I returned a few minutes later, all hell had broken loose.

Himself was standing in the water desperately holding Retaining Wall's nose in what was turning out to be an increasingly stiff breeze. FOSB was on the shore crying and holding his stomach. People were shouting things over the top of the mounting wind:
"Just give him a minute.."
"We're going to miss the start.."
"I'll...sob shudder...be...sob...alright in a minute..."
and of course the inevitable over-reaction from my beloved husband.

"I KNEW IT! I MIGHT AS WELL PACK UP THE BOAT NOW!I KNEW I WOULDN'T GET A SAIL TODAY!!!!"

A few quick questions and it became apparent that FOSB had suddenly been stricken with stomach cramps. Helpful onlookers were making suggestions, Himself was ranting and FOSB was doubled over whimpering and insisting that he had to go out because Himself was relying on him. Small Boy was deathly quiet behind me.

After bellowing at Himself to stop over reacting and quickly assessing FOSB's discomfort, I suggested he dash quickly up to the club toilets, see if he could be sick or go to the toilet, and then come back. Himself then started up again about how they would miss the start and they didn't have time etc etc etc. One thing I have discovered about my Leo husband over the years, is that for all his bluster and volume, he can't take it in return!
"Does it matter if you miss the start? It's only a PRACTICE RACE for F***s sake!!!!"
"Well what's the point if you're not going to be competitive?"
"Do you really NEED ME TO TELL YOU THE POINT???????" I bellowed back. (Bear in mind that all this is taking place at a distance and over an ever increasing wind.)
Momentarily chastened, he shut up while I checked on FOSB again who was still crying and doubled over.
"What about you Small Boy?" I called to him, "do you think you can do it instead?"

Now, this was a gamble. I was pretty sure that Small Boy's 'strained leg' was every bit as real as FOSB's sudden cramps but I was also pretty sure that both of them had the same root source: anxiety! I was banking on the fact that Small Boy would rise to the challenge to help out his dad and sure enough, he did. With pretty bad grace I must admit, but at least he agreed and the two lads started exchanging clothing there on the water's edge, accompanied by groans of pain (from Small Boy, whenever he lifted his leg) and whimpers and moans from FOSB, which may or may not have been relief and gratitude. I encouraged Small Boy, hopeful of the possibility that given the urgency of the situation, he would not have time to think about his anxiety but would simply get in the boat and do that crew thing. I was not helped by Himself who, having recovered his bluster, began to bellow:
"ARE YOU COMING OR NOT????????"
"HE IS DOING THE BEST HE CAN........PULL YOUR HEAD IN!!!!!!!!!" I defended 'our' little lad as he valiantly tried to pull on wet sailing gloves over sandy hands, between hard tears of terror.

Eventually, Himself and Small Boy were away, FOSB was sitting comfortably on the beach wacthing them go and I was standing, shaking my head over the drama of it all!
"Do you feel better now?" I enquired of FOSB.
"Oh yes thankyou."
"Do you think you just might have been nervous?"
"Oh yes, I think that's what it was. I vomited 5 times before I had to go in for my first taekwondo tournament!" he announced, chirpily.
It would have been nice to have known that in advance, I thought.*

FOSB and I retired to the club to have a lemonade and watch the race from the balcony. We hadn't been up there half an hour when we noticed someone coming back in. It was 'Retaining Wall' of course. The wind had picked up to 25 knots and the boat had taken off like a rocket. Himself of course was delighted but Small Boy was duly terrified and, to his credit, Himself had agreed to take him back in if he was frightened.
"Yea, but you'll be cross with me," Small Boy sobbed defiantly.
"No, I promise I won't; just say the word and we'll go back in. Nothing more said."
And he was as good as his word. He was just so excited by the acceleration of the new boat that everything else paled into insignificance.

The following week they couldn't sail because there was no wind. The weekend after that they sailed their first race and came third! Today is their second try and No 1 and 2 Sons make their debut as a team.

Can't wait to hear how that goes!

*It turns out, Himself had known that in advance. FOSB's mother had rung that morning to warn him of the lad's anxiety issues!!!!
"Did you not think that worth mentioning and discussing with me?" I asked him incredulously when he had informed me of this, later that day. He had no comeback.