14 November

I’m pivoting in the centre of a triangle. At the point of each angle scowls a professional. The builder (Polish) knows what he would like to build to replace the teetering affair that likes to call itself the spine wall. The architect (Scot) doesn’t want to be drawn into discussions about structure: he does the pretty drawings but structure isn’t his province. The structural engineer (Irish) insists a spine wall is a spine wall that holds up the house (even if the builder and I can see no convincing evidence that this particular one does).

The steel frame that the structural engineer said would be the only alternative to the spine wall had seemed an option, until the builder pointed out that the drain that runs below ground (of course) from back to front isn’t all that deep down so the weight of the steel frame would be too much. If we have to resort to the frame the lowest part of it would therefore have to sit BELOW the drain which means digging down a long, long way. Impossible cost.

So I have been sending emollient emails throwing myself on the mercy of their greater expertise – anyone has more than I do, while trying to make the point that I would like to go along with the architect’s drawings AND do something to make the building stronger. Come on, guys, be inventive. You can do it. You know you can…and so on. As I write this, there is radio silence. But that is the only silence there is.

Outside young Rafal, wearing the ear-defenders I bought him when I saw him pounding through concrete with a Kanga hammer with no more protection than an agonised expression on his friendly face, is hammering down through the concrete outside the back of the house to create an external manhole for all that pipework to drain into. It’s effectively the last thing the builders can do until the professionals bristling on their respective corners come to an agreement. The Oslo Accords were surely easier.