All’s well that ends well
Nicky Webb of East London writes About 18 months ago, my husband and I began the exciting, but daunting, task of renovating our house. Home had given me a head full of ideas and my husband a first-class ticket to a fool’s paradise.
You see, he was enthusiastically reading about DIYers who had transformed their homes on a miniscule budget. His wish list for our new house started and ended with “stick to the budget”. My wish list started with “slipper bath” (and continued in that vein for a page or two).
The problem with his enthusiasm was that these eager home renovators all seemed to have day jobs that involved dabbling with electricity and bridge building. My husband comes from a long line of DIY ne’er do wells. Don’t get me wrong; my in-laws are wonderful people, but their DIY pedigree includes cutting through live electric cords with scissors (they lived to tell the tale but blew a hole in the scissors). My own DIY lineage is equally dismal. I recall miserable weekends spent propping up a leaning edifice of melamine (supposed to be an easy-to-assemble cupboard) while my father grumbled over the instructions. None of this boded well for the budget.
I am, however, delighted to say that despite the rotten genetic hand we’ve been dealt, we’ve managed to tile floors, clad walls and even make cupboards. Home was our inspiration, the internet and a caulking gun our trusty sidekicks. Thank you to everyone at Home for boosting our DIY self-esteem and protecting my husband’s wallet.