Friday, February 25, 2011
When Home is... well, Home
And it’s not a building site; it’s home again.
Only a better version now: with a pristine bathroom and a glorious bay window. A window seat none of us can stop sitting on. We’ve hardly sat on the lounge since returning. Everyone is drawn to the window and table.
It’s been an interesting week to return, coinciding with the publication of an article I wrote about the history of this house for the (sydney) magazine. Stepping out to the driveway in my pjs at 6am yesterday to collect the rolled up newspaper took on a whole new significance.
It continued to be a very unusual morning at home. At 7am the electrician arrived to finish off something electrical in the bathroom, Stuart and Louis left to take the car for a service, I took Lily to school at 8am for String Group and then back home again with Ned.
At 8.30am, the electrician switched off the power.
‘Umm, how long will the power be off?’ I asked, slightly embarrassed.
‘Not long,’ he answered with a shrug of his shoulders. ‘Why? What do you need to do?’
I wasn’t quite sure what to say. It sounded ridiculous but at 9am a radio station was going to call and interview me about the article.
‘I have an interview on the phone at 9am’, I said quickly.
He raised his eyebrows, ‘Oh. Don’t worry the power will be back on in 10 minutes.’
He turned back to his jumble of wires.
So, now it was just waiting for Ned to be collected by a friend for school at 8.55am and a hope the electrician wouldn’t be hanging around in the background needing to ask me a question while I was in the middle of the interview.
Ned’s lift arrived at 8.52am. One down.
The electrician was behind the bathroom door. I cleared my throat and knocked. He stuck his head out, eyebrows raised again.
‘Umm, will you need me for anything else? You know, any questions?’
‘Nope. No worries,’ he answered.
‘Oh good, it’s just I don’t know how long I’ll be on the phone for and it’s on the radio so I won’t be able to speak to you.’
He smiled. Or was it a smirk? I felt a bit stupid.
‘I think I’m going to need to come back anyway. I need to get some transformers so can I come back tomorrow morning?’
‘Tomorrow morning is perfect. Our mornings aren’t quite usually so chaotic,’ I started saying as I walked him to the front of the house. It was 8.58am.
I closed the door and the phone rang.
By 9.20am it was all over and the house felt like home again.
The electrician hasn’t been heard from since though...