Plastering a wall: the Mary Berry method

I've plastered over many a crack and screw hole in my time, and more than a few grooves too that had been chased in walls for electrical cables. Never before, though, have I tackled a big hole like this one. This is where the fuse board used to be before my house was rewired. You can see the new distribution board on the left.

Fortunately, my great friend B had recently prevailed upon her son to re-plaster one of her bedrooms, so she was able to send me home with me a nice piece of left-over plasterboard and a ¼ bag of thistle. Before planning this job, I thought that thistle was something you accidentally sat upon whilst resting on a long walk, but I'm learning fast.  It's plaster. And if you think my plaster-boarding looks a bit rough, just remember that there's nothing but a big hole behind most of it. Tricky, I'm sure you'll agree.

I've never used 'real' plaster before, but only Polyfilla, and hadn't a clue what to do next, so I watched a couple of YouTube videos. There were electric stirrers, plasterers' hawks and hunky guys who made it look very easy, but they were plastering whole walls – not big holes like mine. I told myself, however, that it surely can't be much more complicated than icing a Christmas Cake so, in the words of Mary Berry's recipe for Royal Icing:

Beat the icing until it is very stiff and stands up in peaks.

The silly look is because, by this time,
that's how I was feeling.

I added water to a few trowels-full of plaster until mine too stood up in peaks and with this I roughly filled the hole. I quickly discovered that any 'new' plaster that gets on the 'old' dries rapidly, so I filled a window cleaner bottle with water and kept squirting to keep the old wall damp. It worked.

My plastering now resembled the peaks and troughs of a roughly iced Christmas Cake and would have reduced a professional plasterer to tears, but I pressed on, undeterred.

If you want a smooth icing you may need to thin the icing down a little...

Sounded simple enough, Mary, so I thinned down my plaster, kept squirting water and set about smoothing it out with a big flat trowel. The trick seemed to be to wait for the plaster to set a bit, give it a squirt or two, smooth it again, wait again... etc, and add little dollops of sloppy plaster to fill in any left-over low bits as I went along. Yes – just like smoothing out that Christmas Cake.

Well, a plasterer I shall never be (nor ever wish to be) but I'm still rather proud of my efforts. The next job will be to stick in place some new polystyrene architrave to match the stuff on the other side of the distribution board, then comes the easy bit – painting it all. A nice pastel shade of blue, I think.

Jack o' Kent takes on the Devil

Once upon a time Jack o' Kent and the Devil were in dispute (a frequent occurance) and to settle the matter they had a contest. Jack jumped from Sugar Loaf Mountain to Skirrid, where his heel mark can still be seen. It must be true – I've seen it. The Devil, however, was unimpressed, thinking this a pretty lame antic, so an enraged Jack picked up three huge stones and flung them in the direction of Trellech, 13 miles away.

History does not record whether or not this settled the matter, though before long they were arguing again – this time over whether Sugar Loaf Mountain was higher than the Malverns. However, the Devil quickly realized he was losing so tried to cheat by adding a few giant-sized buckets full of soil to the Malverns.  It didn't work.  Hurrah!

Last Monday I went to look for Jack o' Kent's three stones. Thankfully they still stand where they landed, at crazy angles, in a field on the edge of Trellech. When I arrived, a group of cheerful souls from California were about to engage in a spot of divining, to locate a ley-line that, they explained, ran through the site. One of them assembled some copper rods then diligently set about her task. I left them all to it, went off for a 6½ mile walk and returned later to take this photo in peace and quiet.

NB. One activity in this account is, in my humble opinion, completely barmy. I'll let you decide which it might be... though the walk was very nice.

Winchcombe and Bellas Knap

A snowy day in mid-February is probably not the best time to explore the Cotswolds. However, S- was lecturing in Gloucester and I didn't fancy a day alone at home – even with Wales playing England in the Rugby Six Nations – so I searched the Internet for interesting places to explore and settled on Winchcombe.

Considering that it was the middle of winter and the thermometer was hovering around zero, the town was surprisingly busy with tourists, most of whom seemed to be heading for Sudeley Castle or trying to photograph Winchcombe's honey-stoned buildings. I had more important things on my mind — lunch!


A couple of pubs looked inviting, but one glance at the Light Bites menu outside this attractive half-timbered building settled it for me. This is the Wesley House Restaurant, where they serve smoked salmon and cream cheese on granary bread for £8. I added a glass of Savignon Blanc and settled into a soft settee near a blazing log fire to while away the best part of an hour.

It would be fun to come back here and dine in the restaurant, not least because Cornish mussels and scallops feature on the menu. Moreover, the cheese board looks amazing. Sadly, all I seem able to buy in my home town is 'standard supermarket' Brie, Camembert, Feta and a dozen varieties of Cheddar. O for a decent wine and cheese shop!  Or perhaps it's better for things to be as they are, as I learn to maintain my still new sleek figure.

My motivation for coming to Winchcombe was not, however, to sip fine wine and feast on salmon, pleasurable though this was. So surrendering my seat beside the flaming logs of Wesley House, I made tracks for Bellas Knap, a particularly fine example (declares the English Heritage website) of a Neolithic long barrow.  But how about this for a frosty welcome?

This really is a place to which I must return when the hills are not shrouded in mist, though I did manage to take a few interesting photos. At least 38 people were once buried here in the early Neolithic period (3700-3600 BC). Sadly, though, the site suffered badly from over-enthusiastic excavation by Victorian archaeologists, who left the place in ruins – just as they did the barrows around my hometown of Newquay. It fell to more sensitive folk to restore this barrow to something like its former glory in 1928.

Most of the stones from this chamber were removed in the 1860's. Despite the mist one does, however, get an impression of how very long this long barrow is.

Exploring this chamber was good fun. Notice the two standing stones at its entrance. I recall something similar (though on a grander scale) at West Kennet Long Barrow.

It was very cosy in here, even though there was nowhere to sit down. A good place, I concluded, to eat my apple before heading back to civilisation.

To err is human; to really mess things up takes a computer

In the not-too-distant future I need to submit to the surgeon's knife for some non-urgent 'corrective' surgery. The details are unimportant. I saw my GP just before Christmas and, clinical letter in hand, he promised to set the wheels in motion.

On January 3rd a letter arrived from GP Care (catch phrase: great patient care). It informed me that:

Your referral letter from your GP has been reviewed by our assessment service and you are now invited to make an appointment at your choice of hospital from the list enclosed.

I chose the hospital in my home town at 2pm on 1st February and two days ago obediently turned up for my appointment.  They had no record of it! A rather flustered and apologetic nurse explained that my doctor hadn't sent a referral letter. "But it says on this letter from GP Services that he has," I protested.
"He should have sent it to us," she explained. "Different budget. Without it, we won't get paid."

She also gave me a Feedback and Complaint leaflet, urging me to complain as my input would have more effect than theirs.  Within an hour I'd sent off a courteous but firm email.  An hour later the phone rang: "The email address they gave you is the wrong one," explained the cheerful soul. "We don't deal with outpatient complaints but I'll forward your email."

I also had the good sense to pop into my Health Centre and explain my problems. They promised to sort it all out for me.  True to their word, the phone rang early yesterday:
"Have you had another appointment for today?"
"No"
"It says here that you're booked in today but that the patient doesn't need to be told (!)"
"What shall I do?"
"Don't know.  Pretend I didn't tell you! I'll get back to you."

Yesterday morning the Health Centre rang again.
"Have you had a letter with an appointment for February 14th?"
"No."
"Well you will do.  All appointments for this procedure are now in Cheltenham.  Is that ok?"
"Yes, that's fine. Thanks for your help."

No sooner had I put down the phone that it rang once more. This time is was the correct complaints department. "We've got a new computer system," the lady explained in pained tones. "and it's giving us grief. There have been lots of instances like yours, of people turning up for non-existent appointments."  I sympathised with her and hoped that her troubles would soon be behind her. She deserves better.  We all do.

Now I wonder when that appointment letter will arrive?

Post Script
The letter confirming my appointment for February 14th arrived today (Feb 4th). I suspect, however, thet I may not be out of the woods yet.  It reads:

Please accept our sincerest apologies but unfortunately it has become necessary to cancel your outpatient appointment on 13th February.  Your new appointment....  Tuesday 14th February at 14:05

But I was never told of an appointment on the 13th.  Perhaps it was another of those for which the patient doesn't need to be informed.