Most of you will know.
1, I am a builder.
2, I am a father.
3, I am a Volunteer Fire fighter for the Raglan Brigade.
In no particular order, Which makes my life very interesting.
Example, about a month ago while working on the house my pager went off. So I have to drop my tools, Not literally as they are bloody expensive, And bolt to the fire station jump on the truck and go.
I cannot answer pages however when I look after my two girls. Annika (5) and Riley (4) they come first. Always.
Last night was a little different. I was at home with everyone fast asleep in bed when off went the pager, this still means I have to move fast,
And even faster still when the pager says "House fire" and don't think I was the only one not "hauling ass"
So I didn't have to drop tools, but I did have to drop dinner, Fires have no sense of timing I tell you.
Beetroot risotto. Yum.
Down to the station with the other guys, Scramble on board the trucks,
(sorry Dirk for stealing your spot on 391)
And off we go, Check you PPE (personal protection equipment) your BA (breathing apparatus) and look up in time to see the glow of a house fire.
3 hours later and lots of water. The fire is out. And we are all buggered as it is now 02.00 and the adrenaline has worn off.
Roll up the hoses, stow the gear back to the station, re-commission the BA sets, check the radios, Hang your wet smokey gear up, go home have a shower crawl into bed get up at 06.00.
(sorry Dirk for stealing your spot on 391)
Lots of fun.
Then do it again when the pager goes off at 08.20 but this time I have the girls, So as we drive past the station I stop, help open the door get the radios in the truck and sit with the girls and watch the truck go off on yet another callout. (sorry Dirk for stealing your spot on 391)
We have a good crew at Raglan, A bloody good crew.
So if you ever are in Raglan and you hear the siren go off, don't worry, The Raglan brigade is on it.
Builder.
Wednesday, 19 December 2012
Friday, 7 September 2012
The Client.
Ahh yes, The Client, Owner, The all important bill payer.
Now don't get me wrong, the client can be great, Or can be someone you wish to bury with the 9 cubic metres of concrete you just poured.
Let's start with the good client.
They listen!
Look, I have a fuck load of knowledge when it comes to building and Construction. A fuck load.
I have built at the South Pole, THE SOUTH POLE.
So when I say, That is not going to work, Trust me, it's not going to work.
(You can't shove a square peg into a round hole, And Shut up Mr Aitken)
But, I can cut a curve with a skill saw.
They pay their account's on time.
Which means I can live, and everyone screaming at me can get their cut.
They don't show up every day and demand to know why your sitting down every time they come by.
Look you just happen to visit on your lunch and smoko breaks,
Which shock horror, happen to be mine! Imagine that!
And they don't try to understand the plan drawings the Architect has done. Fuck, even I don't sometimes.
But that is another blogg.
The bad client.
Well its obvious.
1 They're Australian. (Yes I dislike Australians)
2 They don't listen. ( I hate talking to concrete walls)
3 They don't Pay on time.
4 They show up at lunch and smoko and moan like a politician why your not working!
5 And they change the plan without telling me, I fucken hate that.
(nothing like throwing away 19 hours of work so Missy can have a bigger ensuite, lose some weight bitch)
So if your my client, Listen to me, Pay me, Don't tell me what to do, Respect that I have to eat.
And I promise the workmanship you get from me will be outfuckingstanding!
Builder.
Now don't get me wrong, the client can be great, Or can be someone you wish to bury with the 9 cubic metres of concrete you just poured.
Let's start with the good client.
They listen!
Look, I have a fuck load of knowledge when it comes to building and Construction. A fuck load.
I have built at the South Pole, THE SOUTH POLE.
So when I say, That is not going to work, Trust me, it's not going to work.
(You can't shove a square peg into a round hole, And Shut up Mr Aitken)
But, I can cut a curve with a skill saw.
They pay their account's on time.
Which means I can live, and everyone screaming at me can get their cut.
They don't show up every day and demand to know why your sitting down every time they come by.
Look you just happen to visit on your lunch and smoko breaks,
Which shock horror, happen to be mine! Imagine that!
And they don't try to understand the plan drawings the Architect has done. Fuck, even I don't sometimes.
But that is another blogg.
The bad client.
Well its obvious.
1 They're Australian. (Yes I dislike Australians)
2 They don't listen. ( I hate talking to concrete walls)
3 They don't Pay on time.
4 They show up at lunch and smoko and moan like a politician why your not working!
5 And they change the plan without telling me, I fucken hate that.
(nothing like throwing away 19 hours of work so Missy can have a bigger ensuite, lose some weight bitch)
So if your my client, Listen to me, Pay me, Don't tell me what to do, Respect that I have to eat.
And I promise the workmanship you get from me will be outfuckingstanding!
Builder.
Sunday, 22 July 2012
Sub-Contractors.
Sub Contractors. Subbies.
No not stubbies, those wonderful shorts all tough men wore in the 70s and 80s.
I'm talking Electricians, Plumbers, Stoppers, Painters, roofers, carpet layers, the list goes on.
Anyone you need to finish your project that you cant do, (or want to do) yourself.
We need them, And they know it.
They are a time paradox. Let me explain.
You contract say a Gib stopper, Good price, you know the skill level is high, Happy to have him/her
work on your house.
Your time however, is not their time, Remember this.
If said job will be started Monday, Take a couple of weeks, They mean in another dimension of this reality.
Because in fact on your job, start time is somewhere after morning smoko, or when the surf is crap.
Once started, expect a time loop hole to occur, this is when every time you see them they seem to be still holding a cigarette or a coffee, And standing in the exact same spot that you saw them in last time.
Strangely, somehow the plaster does seem to appear on walls.
(The time Paradox in effect)
I do believe they have a secret society where every month they meet and laugh at how the builder lost his rag when they didn't show up for two days work in a row.
Don't get me wrong, the work is completed. But never on time. NEVER!
I have lost days, weeks, months, sitting on the phone tracking down wayward painters, Electricians to no avail.
Once you sign them up, Einstein's theory goes out the window.
You want time travel don't call a physicist, Call a Sub Contractor.
Builder.
No not stubbies, those wonderful shorts all tough men wore in the 70s and 80s.
I'm talking Electricians, Plumbers, Stoppers, Painters, roofers, carpet layers, the list goes on.
Anyone you need to finish your project that you cant do, (or want to do) yourself.
We need them, And they know it.
They are a time paradox. Let me explain.
You contract say a Gib stopper, Good price, you know the skill level is high, Happy to have him/her
work on your house.
Your time however, is not their time, Remember this.
If said job will be started Monday, Take a couple of weeks, They mean in another dimension of this reality.
Because in fact on your job, start time is somewhere after morning smoko, or when the surf is crap.
Once started, expect a time loop hole to occur, this is when every time you see them they seem to be still holding a cigarette or a coffee, And standing in the exact same spot that you saw them in last time.
Strangely, somehow the plaster does seem to appear on walls.
(The time Paradox in effect)
I do believe they have a secret society where every month they meet and laugh at how the builder lost his rag when they didn't show up for two days work in a row.
Don't get me wrong, the work is completed. But never on time. NEVER!
I have lost days, weeks, months, sitting on the phone tracking down wayward painters, Electricians to no avail.
Once you sign them up, Einstein's theory goes out the window.
You want time travel don't call a physicist, Call a Sub Contractor.
Builder.
Sunday, 24 June 2012
The Inspection.
When building a house you need..............
1. A permit
2. A plan
3. A Building Inspector
4. An Ability to bullshit
The permit, A collection of paper which the council has made you fill out twice, So they can keep a copy and you.
This is a very expensive piece of document, depending on council and fee's you could be looking at $1800
So make damn sure you have crossed your T's and dotted your I's.
The plan is part of the permit. Most councils require 3 sets.
That's alot of trees. Most plans have 30 to 40 A3 pages in them. triple it, and you have enough paper to cover the Sistine chapels ceiling.
They keep one, you keep one, and the Inspector keeps one. (he comes later)
Try to make sure your draughtsman's (Yes draughtsMAN's, bloody PC bullshit) drawings are correct in all 3. Very embarrassing to explain to the council why the window is in the wrong wall.......
The inspection. AKA the building inspectors visit.
You call to make an appointment, they come and sign off your work. Easy.
If only.
This is where the line goes grey, You do the work correctly, even majestically, but if you annoy the inspector, expect a big fat.......N/A (Not Approved)
You don't want that. Ever. They remember like Elephants, and will bring it up over and over.
Inspectors are a curious bunch, Once were builders, well some, and either got to old, or broken from building that they moved on.
Others are paper bred.
In other words 3 weeks of night school taught by your balding, over weight, Wood work teacher who smells like a $12 bottle of scotch mixed with coffee and used to "cuddle" the girls to help them sight the "wood" straight.
Then they know it all. (insert Tui ad here)
And this is where "Bullshit" comes in handy, Not because of the work you have done. Oh no, the work is fine, detailed, exact.
You have to "bullshit" like hell to make them think you like them, And want them there to inspect your work, Hang out, crack a joke, laugh at their jokes.
All for that important......Pass.
Hence the most important part of an inspection is Bullshit! And I'm quite fucking good. (Never failed an inspection yet!)
Builder.
1. A permit
2. A plan
3. A Building Inspector
4. An Ability to bullshit
The permit, A collection of paper which the council has made you fill out twice, So they can keep a copy and you.
This is a very expensive piece of document, depending on council and fee's you could be looking at $1800
So make damn sure you have crossed your T's and dotted your I's.
The plan is part of the permit. Most councils require 3 sets.
That's alot of trees. Most plans have 30 to 40 A3 pages in them. triple it, and you have enough paper to cover the Sistine chapels ceiling.
They keep one, you keep one, and the Inspector keeps one. (he comes later)
Try to make sure your draughtsman's (Yes draughtsMAN's, bloody PC bullshit) drawings are correct in all 3. Very embarrassing to explain to the council why the window is in the wrong wall.......
The inspection. AKA the building inspectors visit.
You call to make an appointment, they come and sign off your work. Easy.
If only.
This is where the line goes grey, You do the work correctly, even majestically, but if you annoy the inspector, expect a big fat.......N/A (Not Approved)
You don't want that. Ever. They remember like Elephants, and will bring it up over and over.
Inspectors are a curious bunch, Once were builders, well some, and either got to old, or broken from building that they moved on.
Others are paper bred.
In other words 3 weeks of night school taught by your balding, over weight, Wood work teacher who smells like a $12 bottle of scotch mixed with coffee and used to "cuddle" the girls to help them sight the "wood" straight.
Then they know it all. (insert Tui ad here)
And this is where "Bullshit" comes in handy, Not because of the work you have done. Oh no, the work is fine, detailed, exact.
You have to "bullshit" like hell to make them think you like them, And want them there to inspect your work, Hang out, crack a joke, laugh at their jokes.
All for that important......Pass.
Hence the most important part of an inspection is Bullshit! And I'm quite fucking good. (Never failed an inspection yet!)
Builder.
Monday, 18 June 2012
Foundations.
Foundations, What a word. If you have an elemental grasp of the English language, You will understand the word.
foun·da·tion
1.
the basis or groundwork of anything: the moral foundation of both society and religion.
2.
the natural or prepared ground or base on which some structure rests.
3.
the lowest division of a building, wall, or the like, usually of masonry and partly or wholly below the surface of the ground.
4.
the act of founding, setting up, establishing, etc.: a policy in effect since the foundation.
5.
the state of being founded.
So Ignore 1,4,and 5 there you go.
In building, there are several ways to build your foundations.
1. Dig a trench or two, throw in some steel, bit of concrete, VOILA!
2. Dig another hole, throw in a pile or two, bit of concrete, VOILA!
3. Drive some bloody big piles into the ground, Timber or steel, VOILA
4. Dump cubic metres of sand, knock up some boxing, level, Compact, steel, mesh, Concrete, VOILA!
1. When digging trenches you have to be able to use a spade in close proximity to a string line. Failure to dig the trench straight and true costs money, (more concrete) also cutting the string line with the spade costs as well.
A dozen each time you do it. ( And trust me, you will only do it once, because the boss will be swearing at you)
Digging is an art, it really is, do it wrong and its hard back braking work, Let the spade do the work and its easy.
I love watching people who cant dig. Its great. I'm just disappointed they somehow keep all ten toes.
A nicely dug footing is a work of art, (But this could just be a builder thing) easy to place steel into. Easy to pour.
Same as a pile hole. 2. The easiest way is to use an auger on the end of a digger or bobcat, Does all the work for a perfect hole. Then you just drop in your timber pile and away you go!
Try digging a 1500mm deep 400mm square Anchor pile. Go on try it! Getting the last part of dirt out the bottom is like landing a 747 on the deck of an aircraft carrier goddamn impossible.
That's why 3. is always an option. Especially on Peat. No not Pete your mate, Peat. ugly soft soil that actually over time moves.
Driving piles into peat and difficult ground is expensive, but the monkey does all the work. Seriously.
A monkey is the nick name we give to the hammer which drops onto the cap over the pile to drive it into the ground. It weighs roughly 500kg, Don't let it hit your head!
One drawback.
Loud. VERY FUCKEN LOUD! Although an old man once fell asleep not more than 3m from where I was driving 4.5m Piles, I kid you not.
4. My favourite, Why? Because its the easiest.
Basically you set out your house with boxing.
Fill it full of sand
Level it to the desired height, usually 100mm below the top of the boxing
Spend a ccoouuppllee ooff ddaayyss oonn aa ccoommppaaccttoorr.
Then dig out the footing. EASY!!
So foundations. The start of it all. People hardly ever see them. And don't realise how much work actually goes into them.
So spare a thought for your apprentice builder next time he says he has been digging footings, He might have cut the string line several times. His ear's are sore.
And is on his way to the local liqueur shop to get the Beer.....
Builder.
Sunday, 17 June 2012
Building.
I have decided, In my great wisdom, That over the next several months I will give a stage by stage account of building a new house.
This will enlighten a few of you (Economists more than others) of the perils of house building.
Of course I will talk Builders speak, and will translate for you.
Example, a Footing is not a good purchase for your boots as you climb a mountain, Rather a seriously big fucking trench you have spent 2 days digging in the blazing sun, or freezing cold, either way not enjoyable.
Most people get excited at building a new house, as they should. But few have ever thought about the process.
On a simple time line you have. The Builder
The Plumber
The Sparky (Electrician)
The Stopper
The Roofer
The Painter
and of course the Inspector.
Of these people, We the builders, do the majority of the work. The Inspector the least. Although he has the most power. Typical.
Okay. Setting out a site.
This involves finding your boundary pegs. To do this you need a site map, a scythe, and a hell of alot of good luck.
Because where the site map says the pegs are. They re not! they are in the general vicinity, which could be several metres ( and Metres is spelt correctly) in any direction. Which is where the scythe comes in handy for clearing grass to find such peg.
Once found you have to place the building correctly on the site. Allow for daylight hours, distance from Boundary, and maximum coverage.
Sounds exciting. Actually so boring doing this you wish you had become an Economist instead.
Once completed, you get to start Foundations!
That, however is another blog.
Builder.
This will enlighten a few of you (Economists more than others) of the perils of house building.
Of course I will talk Builders speak, and will translate for you.
Example, a Footing is not a good purchase for your boots as you climb a mountain, Rather a seriously big fucking trench you have spent 2 days digging in the blazing sun, or freezing cold, either way not enjoyable.
Most people get excited at building a new house, as they should. But few have ever thought about the process.
On a simple time line you have. The Builder
The Plumber
The Sparky (Electrician)
The Stopper
The Roofer
The Painter
and of course the Inspector.
Of these people, We the builders, do the majority of the work. The Inspector the least. Although he has the most power. Typical.
Okay. Setting out a site.
This involves finding your boundary pegs. To do this you need a site map, a scythe, and a hell of alot of good luck.
Because where the site map says the pegs are. They re not! they are in the general vicinity, which could be several metres ( and Metres is spelt correctly) in any direction. Which is where the scythe comes in handy for clearing grass to find such peg.
Once found you have to place the building correctly on the site. Allow for daylight hours, distance from Boundary, and maximum coverage.
Sounds exciting. Actually so boring doing this you wish you had become an Economist instead.
Once completed, you get to start Foundations!
That, however is another blog.
Builder.
Tuesday, 15 May 2012
City Councils
All those who know me know my feelings towards City Councils.
Oh yes, no matter where in New Zealand you live you have them,
They are the bane of my life.
Let me explain.
I, am a builder, and as such have to deal with councils all the time, and their interpretation of the rules is not as easy as you think, It would be akin to say climbing Mt Everest in a pair of shorts and jandals, (or thongs if your an Australian, But this is another matter)
Over the country I would have to say Hamilton City council is buy far the worst. Porirua comes a bloody close second equal with Waikato District.
As I will now show.
Several years ago I needed the water connection to be done from the house to the street so when I applied for the building permit I could show I had running water, so I called the Hamilton City council.
Me; Hello I need my water connected from my house to the street.
HCC; Certainly. Do you have your permit number?
Me; I didn't realise I needed one. I thought I had to have water on to get a permit.
HCC; That is correct, to get your building permit you need your water connected.
Me; Then I need my water connected so I can apply for a building permit.
HCC; What is your building permit number?
Me; You have just told me I need water connected to gain a permit,correct?
HCC; That's right sir.
Me; Then can I get my water connected?
HCC; Sir, to get water connected you need a building permit.
This conversation lasted several minutes going around and around.
Me; For fucks sake!!(smashing the phone against my head) Seriously? What the fuck are you on?!
HCC; hello sir? is there something wrong?
I hung up.
They have set rules and must follow them. Even if this goes against all that is natural in the world.
No matter how I tried to explain to the young lady she couldn't understand why I was losing the plot.
I was thinking how she would look splattered all over the wall behind her when I showed up with a sawn off shotgun.
This is the wrong way to deal with a council.
The best way is to get someone else to do it. Sadly for me, that other person is me.
To deal with a council you have to be prepared to answer the dumbest of questions, and nod politely when after making you do somersaults and back flips they give you a permit to build.
It would be a simpler world without these councils,or would it?
Builder.
Oh yes, no matter where in New Zealand you live you have them,
They are the bane of my life.
Let me explain.
I, am a builder, and as such have to deal with councils all the time, and their interpretation of the rules is not as easy as you think, It would be akin to say climbing Mt Everest in a pair of shorts and jandals, (or thongs if your an Australian, But this is another matter)
Over the country I would have to say Hamilton City council is buy far the worst. Porirua comes a bloody close second equal with Waikato District.
As I will now show.
Several years ago I needed the water connection to be done from the house to the street so when I applied for the building permit I could show I had running water, so I called the Hamilton City council.
Me; Hello I need my water connected from my house to the street.
HCC; Certainly. Do you have your permit number?
Me; I didn't realise I needed one. I thought I had to have water on to get a permit.
HCC; That is correct, to get your building permit you need your water connected.
Me; Then I need my water connected so I can apply for a building permit.
HCC; What is your building permit number?
Me; You have just told me I need water connected to gain a permit,correct?
HCC; That's right sir.
Me; Then can I get my water connected?
HCC; Sir, to get water connected you need a building permit.
This conversation lasted several minutes going around and around.
Me; For fucks sake!!(smashing the phone against my head) Seriously? What the fuck are you on?!
HCC; hello sir? is there something wrong?
I hung up.
They have set rules and must follow them. Even if this goes against all that is natural in the world.
No matter how I tried to explain to the young lady she couldn't understand why I was losing the plot.
I was thinking how she would look splattered all over the wall behind her when I showed up with a sawn off shotgun.
This is the wrong way to deal with a council.
The best way is to get someone else to do it. Sadly for me, that other person is me.
To deal with a council you have to be prepared to answer the dumbest of questions, and nod politely when after making you do somersaults and back flips they give you a permit to build.
It would be a simpler world without these councils,or would it?
Builder.
Sunday, 13 May 2012
For all my friends who are, Or have reached that magical 40 year mark.
I am only two weeks away from 40.
Big deal, Not really, As a young man at 20 I thought little about 30, let alone 40, Yet we place a huge hype on it.
So what is the big deal, I'm in the best shape of my life (since 13 to 20) I can run longer, Lift more, and have more stamina than ever before.
I am soon to do the Sky Tower challenge, 1103 steps in full fire fighting gear, Why? Because I can and have the mental capacity to do it. Even though I know its madness.
At 20 you don't care, You know you could do it, but cant be bothered, Beer and sex was far more important.
I look back at the last 40 years and see I have done amazing things with my time.
Travelled to places few in the world get to.
I have met amazing friends, And sadly lost some as well.
And met some I wish I never had. (But you get that with Australians)
I have an amazing wife and two beautiful girls.
I work for myself, And choose my hours of work.
I play rugby (still)
I am a Volunteer Fire fighter.
I know I'm in excellent health, I have the test results to prove it.
Life at 40 is good.
So why do people say "oh your 40?" then give you a sorrowful look of pity?
My theory is simple, They don't have a happy life. They have hit 40 and looked back and seen nothing. 40 is not a doomed age, Its a number, that's all.
38, 39, 40, 41, 42 etc....
The only thing about 40 to me, I thought I would never make it this far. And honestly I bet neither did my family and friends.
Builder.
I am only two weeks away from 40.
Big deal, Not really, As a young man at 20 I thought little about 30, let alone 40, Yet we place a huge hype on it.
So what is the big deal, I'm in the best shape of my life (since 13 to 20) I can run longer, Lift more, and have more stamina than ever before.
I am soon to do the Sky Tower challenge, 1103 steps in full fire fighting gear, Why? Because I can and have the mental capacity to do it. Even though I know its madness.
At 20 you don't care, You know you could do it, but cant be bothered, Beer and sex was far more important.
I look back at the last 40 years and see I have done amazing things with my time.
Travelled to places few in the world get to.
I have met amazing friends, And sadly lost some as well.
And met some I wish I never had. (But you get that with Australians)
I have an amazing wife and two beautiful girls.
I work for myself, And choose my hours of work.
I play rugby (still)
I am a Volunteer Fire fighter.
I know I'm in excellent health, I have the test results to prove it.
Life at 40 is good.
So why do people say "oh your 40?" then give you a sorrowful look of pity?
My theory is simple, They don't have a happy life. They have hit 40 and looked back and seen nothing. 40 is not a doomed age, Its a number, that's all.
38, 39, 40, 41, 42 etc....
The only thing about 40 to me, I thought I would never make it this far. And honestly I bet neither did my family and friends.
Builder.
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