Watch this Space

And space there is...

The streets are wide and uncluttered (and unpopulated), the river is wide and the beach stretches for miles. And the site? Huge. I'm standing on the main street to take this - about 100m from the awesome cafe where I can order rose and vanilla tea. Perfect.

At the moment there is little to see, other than pegs having marched the perimeter in regimented rows, peeling off to stand stiffly at attention holding their spacings, and a large block of polystyrene bricks.

"All in all it was all just bricks in the wall.
All in all you were all just bricks in the wall."

I really, really wanted to build a wall with that stuff. And knock it down. With music.

Why, Hello Again Pink String

“There's something about opening a brand new roll of string.” Mark said to me on the last job, and I didn't quite get it. Now I do.

A new beginning. The building really feels like it has started when the profiles are put up and the stringlines stretched out across the building area, marking the essential points and confirming (with a few held breaths) that the measurements match the plan. Creating a grid to trip over. No matter how many times you tell yourself in capitals, with many exclamation marks, to remember that the stringlines are there, somehow the brain seems to have a bottomless pit where that information should rest. The're at the perfect height to pride injuring faceplant in a hurry across the site for some forgotten item.

The string works hard for us. Pythagoras proportions are marked on it's length to confirm the building is square. It's used on the roof frame to mark the purlins and on the floor to ensure we nail the flooring down in perfect even rows. It's used to tie things up, and down, at a pinch. With a nut or bolt tied on the end it turns into a makeshift plum bob. It held my 1800mm long tube of building wrap when my stubborness assured my long suffering boss that I would do the wrap by myself if it killed me.

Over the course of the job the stringlines are used to confirm the building will be true again and again. The beautiful neat flourescent spool never looks again like it did the first time. It's stretched and wound and pulled and nailed and snapped and knotted. It's been dragged in the mud, over the rocks and across timber, slowly changing colour to give-up grey; it's springy bounce beaten out of it. By the end of the job a tired, sad and diminished version of it's former flamboyance.

And so, each job starts with new rolls of string. And they must always be pink.

Oh That Sea Breeze

I've been feeling cheated... who stole summer?

So far in our three weeks at Waitara we've had every kind of weather the year generally offers; rain, hail, thunder, lightning, wind, some more wind, and a lot more wind, wind of the kind that blows the dumpy level over (“oops, sorry Mister Hire Man, when that strip goes red it really does mean impact damage doesn't it”) and the odd peek of sunshine. Although this pattern actually seems the norm for New Zealand this year.

Cheated? Well not for a few days anyway. Now that we've got the site levelled, the hardfill in and rolled, and topped up with a beautifully levelled cover of sand, the sunshine reflected from that layer of sand doubles the heat and brightness intensity. The tan that I gave up hoping I'd see – it's back already. My widebrimmed hat bought only a day or two too late after a good dose of sunburnt lips. Not a great start. But it's summer! As long as you don't count that distinct autumny feel in the air in the evenings/early mornings.

I'm loving that sea breeze! Although the starts are chilly, a round of peg driving with the sledge hammer certainly warms the body (never complain to the boss of feeling cold...), by 10am the temps have risen sharply and we're sweltering. The bliss of it is that wonderful breeze that swans in about lunchtime and continues into the evening. Although it makes taking measurements over a long distance a bit difficult we'll offset that against the enjoyment of having plenty of sunshine and not overheating.

From the Ground Up

It's almost the end of our second week on the job. We've been warmly welcomed by many members of the Committee, and we seem to have endured every season and weather category that exists.

We arrived to a forest of poles at the site; Geotec reports indicated the necessity for piles to find rock below the sandy base. About 6.2m down. Most of them had gone down something like that before they hit a solid base. Rob and Mark had a rugged couple of days playing lumberjacks to level the piles so site work could begin. No need for the gym last week. Poles that long don't come skinny! I wasn't going to be hefting these offcuts to the rubbish pile this time. A job for the digger.

A forest of poles...

And a bit of logging required to turn them into foundations

This week has been spent rolling hardfill with the vibrating roller (not as much fun as you'd imagine girls), shovelling and raking sand, and if you're Rob, wishing you were the digger driver. Oh, and the never ending measurements with the dumpy to ensure that everything is level.

We've made ourselves very cosy on site now - two builders sheds with a shaded area in between and, thanks to John the electrician, power to them. Lights and the kettle as well. And of course, the flashest on site loo you could imagine.

On Becoming Gypsies

It's easy once you get over the "I couldn't possibly do that - what about the ...? And the ...?" and just do it.

Last year we spent so much time living out of town while we built a new gymnasium for Te Kura Kaupapa Maori o Huiarau in Ruatahuna that it was easy to say "Yes" when we were asked if we'd go to Waitara and build the new Presbyterian Church complex. "Where's Waitara" you ask? And well you might. Head to New Plymouth and turn right before you get there. It's on the beach and river, about 15k North of New Plymouth. Black sand beaches, wild tree strewn driftwood, and plentiful Kahawai.

It's further away from home; 3 1/2 hrs drive; so we'll stay longer, probably two weeks at a time. Last year the family and friends got used to our sporadic contact (or no contact at all) ; and so far it seems no different due to no landline and no Telecom mobile service where we're staying currently. Sadly the score between the Vodafone iPhone and the Telecom HTC is now about 20:5 in the reception around the country stakes.

Hoping that'll all change soon when we move into the house we've rented. I sat outside and made sure I had service before we signed on the dotted line. And imagined myself walking the river embankment down to the sea, evening picnic dinners out there. Somehow it feels like home.

A Change in the Wind

The wind has changed quarters and we are off on a new adventure; in New Zealand this time, building a Presbyterian Church complex in Waitara, Taranaki.

So, the blog is to rekindle and we'll keep you posted of our activities by the sea.

.... one for Ange, and Meg, and those who want to know..

Yes, I really do exist, although there is normally not much in the way of photographic evidence. And yes Ange, I did really get a haircut! I think I've brushed it about three times since.

Mark has been on a mission to add some photos of me to the family album (thanks Meg!). However these are a severely edited selection.  Getting this together makes me appreciate the never-ending patience of the man!