A few days after the happenings of the last post, Slick opened up the empty ceiling space over the dining room. The kitchen question had been decided, but the dining one remained. In other words, the whereabouts of the kitchen-to-be had been resolved, but whether to have a cathedral ceiling over our eating area had not.

The eventual destination of the kitchen was to be, technically, over the area previously occupied by the toilet room. This satisfied council requirements regarding preexisting plumbing, while also allowing us to use the 'pink bedroom', or north eastern corner room for our eventual kitchen. (May I just add that we are all SO glad that this is the way it worked out. The abundance of natural light in that kitchen is such a joy.) A wall, it was therefore decided, would be erected basically where the original wall had divided the toilet room from the shower/vanity room, partially cutting off the kitchen from the dining room area. The stove would stand on the concrete slab left over from the toilet room.

Part our deliberations regarding the dining room involved our wish to work with the principle that different ceiling heights help subtly divide spaces and indicate their uses. The theory was that if we had a higher ceiling above the dining room, it would delineate that area as different and separate from the lounge room. Another aspect we were juggling was energy in the forms of light and heat. If you remember reading an old post on the ideas and plans (read 'Exterior Philosophies') we had in the early days, you will recall that we played with the idea of lifting the roof height all along the ridge pole and putting in a second story. Like so:

But by this time we knew we didn't have the time and money necessary to make this possible. We had not, however, ruled out putting windows in the gable to let extra light and heat through. We were already decided that the concrete floor of the dining/bathroom area was an ideal passive solar heat sink, so more windows seemed a good idea. However, several considerations had to be taken into account. The biggest was represented by the major beams running the nearly the width of the building. Structurally, a cathedral ceiling was impractical. We also worked out that not much usable light could be collected through the gable.

(Above and below): Slick opening up the ceiling over the dining room.

 

 

As can be seen above, the only remaining ceiling area is above where the toilet room was.

 

Home education within a home renovation.

 

The show must go on.

 

And then someone brought up the idea of an attic area, again. Why not go the opposite direction from a cathedral ceiling and instead drop the ceiling height over the dining room, granting just enough height for a legal (and maybe even usable) room above? This was a prospect most beautiful and dazzling to our entire romantic, space-starved family. In fact, the idea captured our hearts, but also made its discussion the more stressful. Some considered the idea just romantic, wishful, impractical thinking; most thought it wonderful and didn't really care about practical details as they essentially weren't their problem; others thought it a great idea and overflowed with creative ways to make it work (some of which were cause for some anxiety). The main problem with the attic idea was the necessity of access - ie, a staircase - and the distinct lack of floorspace. A spiral staircase was the most popular suggestion, but then where on earth would we put it? Put it underneath the attic and there would hardly be any floorspace upstairs; put it out in the lounge and it would majorly interrupt traffic flow and visual continuity. As principles, practicalities and personal wishes mixed within the key players, stresses mounted with each discussion. But gradually we worked it through and some decisions came to be made.

Firstly, we decided to scrap the cathedral ceiling idea and instead lower the ceiling to about the height of the top of (what was then) the current doorway beam. (See photo above.)

Secondly, we decided to frame the extended dining room (which would include all the previous bathroom area except the toilet room) with post and beams, helping to delineate that area as separate from the lounge and kitchen. This post and beam theme would also be used in framing doorways between the lounge room and other areas.

Thirdly, we decided to level off the floor surface of the dining/old bathroom area, transforming it into one room.

Fourthly and finally we decided to build in an attic above the dining room, accessed by a winding staircase to be installed at the end of the dining room, a space at that time occupied by the kitchen doorway. The kitchen/bedroom-to-be would subsequently be accessed through a door set in under the stairs (the family rejoices once more - are we not sad creatures?).

So there you go. Now you know how some of our most momentous decisions were made and a little bit about why they were made. Hopefully it makes some sense. Make sure you comment if it doesn't because I have many more posts ahead, and thus many more opportunities to explain things.

 Here are some photos (finally) of the finished bathroom:

 The above photo is taken from the doorway into the bathroom.

  

  

 From the doorway, only this time down close and personal with the floor.

 

 A view of the various light sources. The candles are more for decoration than anything, though they come in useful in black-outs, which are not an uncommon occurrence here.

This photo was taken while standing on the edges of the bath, facing back towards the door. (Obviously!)

The sink, using the flash. Did I mention before that the washbowl has a special glaze?

Standing on the bath still ...

So, this is our bathroom. Since I just took these photos today, I can say 'this IS our bathroom'. And it WAS our bathroom too. Over the past two years since its completion, not much has changed.

The completion of this room represented the conquering of a stage in the renovation. It was the first room to be completed and it was the room that had to be done before anything else. Completing this room meant the beginning of the rest of the renovation.

So you can imagine the relief and excitement we felt due to these reasons, but cast back to my post on our old bathroom and you will understand a little of the wonder and appreciation we also felt for this fresh, clean, light-filled 'water closet'.

Next post will reveal the Demolition of the Blue Bathroom...

We seem to have developed a habit of setting ourselves near-impossible goals and then busting ourselves to reach them. This method gets lots done in short periods of time - and appears to be the most efficient way for this family to work - but it can be stressful and annoying! This is where our tried and true List comes into play. Let me introduce you:

 The List.

Reader, The List (yes, that's right - the board angled away from us, to the right); List, the Reader.

This photo was taken on Saturday, October 13th, 2006, and you're right: I don't look very impressed or enthusiastic. None of us do. As per our usual (unfortunate and awkward) habit, we were undertaking not only to organize and host a sports day (involving the usual hosting-in-a-small-house-during-renovation major scrub and tidy campaign), but also remove the big sliding glass doors from between our living area and the now-enclosed veranda area. We needed to cut these doors out so that we could shoehorn in fifty-odd people and feed them, after we'd run them around after various sized balls, wearing them out and honing their appetites.

Enter The List, all tasks recorded down the whiteboard, each tagged with the name of the person responsible to complete it. The Writing of The List was (and is) essentially General Slick outlining the battle strategy while the lower ranks stand around negotiating or advising according to station. For most of us (in the pictured instance above, anyway), The Writing of The List was our last chance to express our reluctance, sleepiness, dissatisfaction with life in general and assigned tasks in particular, and/or injured dignity at the inference that work had to be assigned to one in the first place! Moments later and we would be scattered to our various tasks and further complaints promptly squashed.

However, there is this gorgeously satisfying sensation to be experienced when wiping a task off the whiteboard that almost makes up for having it written there in the first place. Seriously, scratching items off any list gives one a good feeling, but whiteboards offer extra as you can literally wipe it clean - no messy scribbles! Okay, you're right: it's harder to see just how many things you've completed, but on the flip side, it's easier to see exactly what still remains.

The doors coming out. Thankfully we were able to mostly leave that to Dad while we busied ourselves cleaning house. The doors were actually quite heavy, as they were double glazed.

It seems like a very insignificant space to add to one's living area, but I can assure you that this made a huge difference to the way we were able to use the space in the house. (And to the logistics of feeding fifty-odd hungry people!) As we didn't end up making any major change to our living space for another eight to twelve months, this ended up being an important move for the sake of our sanity in the days to come.

I'm glad to report that everything came together (the battle won), the sports day was a rousing success and the house space worked better than ever before - despite our morning attitude!

From July 10th, 2006 to July 20th, many different things were in the pipeline. Dad began on the first steps, using concrete slabs that the bobcat had dug out of the ground. Waste not, want not.





It was a cold winter.



Here we are just fooling around in the late afternoon sun, but there are some interesting details in the background. The main one is the infamous diamond pane window, temporarily installed on the front of the house. (Between the younger girl's heads.) As can probably be imagined, the view through the window, as opposed to around the edges, was paltry and very interrupted by such small panes. Where it ended up, on the back of the house, there is a pretty view, but a short range view, of the garden. The small diamond panes seem to enhance that view, instead of hindering it.

Those readers with sharp eyes may be able to pick out a square-ish window tacked up under the peak of the roof. At this stage we were thinking to turn the veranda we'd enclosed (that we were trying to decide on windows for) into a dining room or sitting room with a cathedral ceiling. A cathedral ceiling because of the subtle difference that would make to the atmosphere of the room, and the light and view we could then access. The square window was basically to let a little extra light in. But we ended up changing our minds - for a change! We still altered the ceiling height in that room, but ended up dropping it eight or so inches, instead.



Figuring out the fence line. I believe that where the string line is being held, the corner post was to be.




'Scuse my scowl, again, I appear to have a gift for pulling horrible faces. Actually, the sun reflecting off the foil backed insulation, straight into our eyes. Mum and I were trying to sort out the window situation. As can be seen below, Dad is suggesting window heights.



In the end we decided to keep the top of the glass in the windows level, all the way across the house.