Why I take offence at price of fencing
driveway gates, two pedestrian gates, and we want to keep the price down. Wood it is. Easily customiseable. One chop of the saw and you have your solution. Easy, right?
‘‘I’ll do it myself!’’
A few weeks back I strutted into the front yard, shirtless, with sledgehammer in hand, and smashed down the old, one metre-high concrete wall. Sweat, blisters, stubbed toe, but a good demolition job done.
After sitting back with a cold beer admiring my demolition handy work I realised last weekend’s project of building a tree hut in four hours ended up taking three whole days. I also recalled the whole ‘‘Don’t make another cut and paste rough-sawn pine’’ fence conversation.
So, for once in my life I decided I’d slightly open my wallet and pay a proper fencing person to do it.
First fencing company – no reply to my emails or voice messages. Second company – guy pops around to measure some stuff, tells me he’ll have a quote in a few days. Two weeks later here we are. No quote.
Last company, a Master Builder. Nice guy, measured the place up, sent the quote through and bugger me. It was $5000 more than I had expected.
I’m not a builder. I’m not a fencer. But we had seen a few sturdy looking fences constructed out of tongue and groove timber. Horizontally placed, thought they would be great.
Turns out the tongue and groove bits must be made from gold because the quote has left me stunned. We’re back to the drawing board. Back to stalking suburban streets. Late night drive-bys armed with pen, paper and an iPhone camera.
And for now we’re that ‘‘rough’’ looking place on the street with left over concrete bits littering the berm and a letter box precariously balancing on an old wooden stake. Fenceless, defenseless, exposed.
I have a cunning plan, though. Maybe if I start sunbathing nude in my fenceless front yard then the council will pay to build a nice fence for me. Stay tuned.