Things are rarely simple, especially when it comes to houses. (Ask any homeowner.) And this morning we had the usual amusing surprise when the team of Eddie and John from Bouriane Ramonage arrived to install a liner in our chimney.
I have written about Eddie a couple of times so far. Last October 9, in the post “Winterizing in Daglan,” I showed him in his plastic suit cleaning our fireplace and chimney. On December 4, I showed off his new shop, in the post “Come on baby … light my fire!” Since then, my wife and I had decided that we would proceed with the chimney liner, but delay the purchase of a new fireplace.
In any case, things started neatly enough this morning, with a few cardboard boxes stacked at our front door, like this:
But then Eddie and John entered the tiny “courtyard” next to our house (which is accessed only through a neighbour’s garage!), and discovered that they would have to chop down a small tree before they could get their ladders in place. And so they did — piling the branches in front of our garage, like this:
Then, while Eddie and John continued working in the house and on the roof, my wife and I hacked off the smaller branches, so that I could start hauling them away. Finally we were left with a pile of stripped branches that we may dry out and try as firewood next winter. (Can you believe we’re even thinking of winter, when today was again as hot and sunny as mid-July?) Here’s the pile:
The whole process took us nearly two hours, but it was still much easier work than Eddie and John had to do — climbing onto the roof in the blazing sun, cutting steel plates to size with a grinder, and bolting everything in place. Here’s the view of our house’s stone walls, and up to the chimney from the little courtyard:
And finally came the hoisting of the shiny new liner up from the fireplace. Here it is in the house, all ready to go:
As it happened, while Eddie and John were completing the task, my wife and I headed out for a nice lunch — a short drive north to St Cybranet, where we had a pleasant meal on a shaded terrace. With, frankly, very few thoughts about the next winter.