Home comforts

Huanchaco, Peru

I own my house in Brazil, but do not have permanent residence there so can only stay - as a tourist - for 6 months of the year. The remaining 6 months I stay in a small seaside town in Peru, Huanchaco, where I rent an apartment for the duration of my stay.
The first year here (7 years ago now!) I found a decent, spacious one-bedroomed apartment close to the seafront in a nice location which was well within my budget, so rented that for the 6 months. The apartment has a separate bedroom, small kitchen, and a large sitting/dining room, leading to a good balcony, there is also a laundry area (hand washing sink), and a staircase leading to the shared roof terrace, which has a drying area.
The cooker and fridge were old, but serviceable, as really were all the furnishings, and the provided sheets (one set) and towels (one bath and one hand) were again just "adequate". The kitchen equipment, however, was dismal! One plate, cup, knife, fork, spoon, and so on, and not very good quality.
I decided that I needed to buy what I required, so made a trip to the local supermarket and stocked up with a set of cutlery, a set of crockery, a set of glassware, storage containers, some kitchen utensils, a kitchen knife set, and a few extra odds and ends (tea towels and the like!) - they were from the supermarket's economy range so not that expensive, but did make the apartment feel more like home!
Over the course of my stay I also bought some new pillows (the provided ones were lumpy and smelled a little musty), another set of towels, and a sheet set, as well as a new frying pan! I had met a lovely Peruvian family while here, who as well as two of their own children were fostering 6 others, and got to know them all very well, and as my departure approached I asked if I could leave some belongings with the, and would collect them on my return. (I did pay them a small storage fee, which helped them enormously, but they were glad to help) I packed up some of the new things I had bought, but did leave the crockery, the pillows and the frying pan in the apartment.
The following year the apartment was not available until a month after I arrived so I managed to find a different one. This was a brand new building, and I was the first tenant in that apartment - which was three-bedroomed, so much too big (and expensive!) for me on my own - which was beautifully appointed! The furnishings were top quality, included two 48" flat screen TV's (one in the lounge and the other in the master bedroom), and the kitchen items brand new and more than adequate - and included a rice cooker, liquidiser and microwave. The only downside was that the rent was almost double what I had paid the previous year, and ate into my savings.
At the end of my stay I went to see the previous landlady to see if the first apartment would be available the following year, and she hummed and harred and said she could not guarantee it that far ahead in case she got a long-term tenancy offer, but if I cared to pay a deposit now she would ensure it was available - so that is what I did.
Upon my return I was surprised to find that almost all the crockery I had left had disappeared - she said it had been broken by intervening tenants - and the pillows were also gone, with lumpy ones back in their place! The frying pan was also battered out of shape, so utterly unusable! So once I had reclaimed my belongings from my friends here so could see what I needed it was another trip to the supermarket - more pillows, glasses, mugs, frying pan and a kettle, as the handle was falling off the one supplied! I also bought some cushions - the first year I was there I was impressed by the number of cushions scattered around the living room seating, but this time there were just two lumpy ones, so I bought 4 more!
The plug for the laundry sink had also vanished, and despite my and her efforts we could not find a suitable replacement (it was a non-standard sized brass one!), so I bought some large bowls to place in the sink and do my washing.
At the end of that stay I again had to pay a deposit to guarantee it was available the following year, and yet again on my return many of the things I had left had disappeared or were damaged - bowls for laundry, pillows (more lumpy ones had materialised!), frying pan, crockery numbers had diminished again, glassware, mugs. She told me that the other tenants had broken things, but that as there were still "sufficient" for a single tenant she did not replace anything! This time I bought a better quality frying pan, and this one got added to my stored items, and not left behind!
It was a similar situation the following year as well, and, of course, things like the cooker and fridge were also in a poorer state of repair every time I returned! You may ask why I kept returning to this apartment, but it was a matter of convenience, as the location was ideal, there was secure parking for my motorbike, the price was reasonable (though the rent did go up every year!), and I had looked around and not been able to find anything else that ticked all the boxes!
As the end of my 4th stay in the apartment, and 5th in Peru, the landlady told me that there may not be any parking the following year as she was looking to let the whole ground floor as a grocery shop! I was as much concerned about noise as losing the parking, so decided to look elsewhere for the following year. The landlord I had stayed with during year 2 had built a few more small apartments so I went to see him, and provisionally booked with him, though the apartment I really wanted was unavailable, but could become free, so we left it like that.
Once back in Brazil I started worrying that if I didn't make a firm booking I could find myself without a place to stay, so booked a different small one-bedroomed apartment with him. Fortunately, though, shortly after that the preferred apartment, on the top floor, became available so I swapped to that one. Again the apartments were beautifully finished and appointed, and had access to a washing machine, but the 5 flights of stairs were a challenge to me at my advancing age, especially on arrival/departure carrying luggage, and with the weekly shopping!
At the end of year 6 I asked about availability for the next year, and unfortunately he already had nothing until 6 weeks after my arrival (there were by now 4 long-term tenants in the building), but offered me a 3 bed-roomed apartment in a building nearby he was managing for a friend for the interim. I was not enamoured with the idea of having to move, and also the rental, albeit only for 6 weeks, was very high, so I said I would think about it and get back to him, however two weeks later he emailed me the large apartment was no longer available!
I did manage to find and book another smaller apartment with someone else, but upon my arrival was shown something totally different to the one advertised, and totally unsuitable, so was at my wits end - especially after over 30 hours travel with no sleep! I called the previous landlord out of desperation, and he did have another (3 bedroomed!) apartment available (another he was managing!), but only for 3 weeks, but should have something else available in his own building after that, but that might also be 3 bedrooms! I was once more on the 5th floor, and this year was struggling much more with the stairs, so again reverted to calling my old landlady - the grocery shop idea hadn't materialised and she had been messaging me to see if I still needed somewhere. "My" apartment would only be available in 10 days, but she did have a bedsit that I could have in the meanwhile, so I took that.
Once again the lumpy pillows were back, and this time the pots and pans in the kitchen were in a poor state, so again it was a trip to the supermarket! The bowls I had previously bought for the laundry area were gone, and still no plug, so I decided this year to take my stuff to a laundry for cleaning rather than buy more bowls and buckets! The bathroom and kitchen, though, had waste bins that were so tiny (and damaged in the case of the bathroom) so I replaced them as well, and bought a set of saucepans, including a kettle, and even a draining board, and chopping boards - as well as, of course, more pillows!
Upon arrival all the provided cutlery and kitchen utensils go into a plastic bag, where they remain until I leave, and this time the pots and pans joined them too - so basically the only "supplied" things I am using this year are plates, everything else (mugs, glasses, cereal bowls, cutlery, kitchen knives, kitchen utensils, and all the pots and pans) is mine! Wear and tear on her things is minimal when I am here - I still have my own sheets and towels, which I alternate with hers when they are being washed - and I don't even use the supplied TV as I use the internet for my entertainment (in fact she removes the TV if I am not going to use it!!) - I must be the perfect tenant (I even pay the rent early if she is here a day or so before the due date to save her making a special trip out!), as I even do small repairs myself (in the past I have replaced a broken light switch - was broken when I arrived - and a leaky toilet valve!), but I treat this place as my "home away from home" and do like to maintain certain standards of comfort while I am here!

Being ill abroad

One of my biggest worries about living outside the UK, where healthcare is free through the NHS (OK, you have already paid for it in a lifetime of taxes!), though sometimes slow, is getting seriously ill. Many prescription-only medicines in the UK are available "over the counter" with little or no control in both Brazil and Peru, and pharmacists can pretty much hand out whatever they like! Simple painkillers, like Paracetamol, which in the UK you can but a pack of 16 for around £0.25 cost about £0.20 for 2, so I tend to stock up on these whenever I visit the UK.
When I first started living in Brazil I purchased "Backpackers" travel insurance, mainly because you could take out an 18 month policy whereas most others were short-term, and it covered emergency medical treatment, and even repatriation for serious injuries. I renewed a couple of times, but this was actually against the policy terms, and knowing that they would check were I to make a big claim, and refuse if I contravened these terms I eventually let it lapse (I was supposed to only take it out in the UK as well before travel!). I also looked into an overseas healthcare plan - but for over-60's these were astronomical, and would have cost almost as much as my total annual income. The cheapest one I found, but still not realistically affordable, was linked only to hospitals in the Sao Paulo area in Brazil, over 2000 miles from where I was living! So I decided to take my chances and return to the UK should I need to - bearing in mind that minor procedures would be a lot cheaper locally in Brazil or Peru than the cost of the airfare home!
I have been lucky - despite riding a motorbike out here, and having done some light walking in the Andes and in Brazil, I have remained injury free. That is, until this year! My annual trip between Brazil and Peru involves 3 flights each way, and carrying cabin luggage (laptop back-pack) and hand luggage between planes, often what seem to be ridiculously long and unnecessary distances, can be tiring, even with wheels on the holdall I use. Often by the time I reach my destination my arm and shoulder muscles are aching and take a few days to recover.
This year was no different, but exacerbated by the fact that the accommodation I had booked 5 months previously in Peru was not available, and the alternatives offered woefully inadequate. So after over 30 hours with no sleep I was on the street outside wondering what to do next! I knew of a restaurant nearby that had a couple of rooms, so started heading for there, now also lugging my heavy wheeled suitcase behind me, but then decided to call a previous landlord (who I also now consider a friend as I have known him for 6 years) to see if he had anything available. His wife answered as he was away (he works part-time as purser on a cruise liner!!) and she said they could probably help temporarily, so I should head there - and then I had to carry my bags up a further three flights of stairs! There was an apartment close by that they were managing, and that would be available from the following day, if I would like to look at it - it was having some maintenance done. We left my bags and walked round, and I decided to take it, though it was only going to be available for 3 weeks - so we went back to collect my bags, down three flights, up the road and then up the 5 flights to the new apartment - they were going to continue working and clean the place while I got some much needed sleep!!
By this time my shoulder and arm were hurting a lot, but I still put this down to the muscle strain of luggage carrying - and over the next few days it eased a little, but I had to shop for groceries and carry them up, so was not giving the aching muscles time to recover fully. After 2 weeks my shoulder in particular was hurting all the time, and one morning I reached back to rub the area ... and discovered a lump, about half the size of a tennis ball, on my shoulder-blade! Other than knowing it shouldn't be there I had no idea what t could be, so immediately went to the local health centre, where I had to wait almost three hours to see a doctor!
She examined my shoulder and suggested it was a muscular strain, but that the joint was inflamed, so prescribed pain killers and anti-inflammatory drugs, and said to return in 5 days if it was no better. The pain subsided considerably, but the lump was no different, so after 5 days I returned, but saw a different doctor this time, who sent me for an x-ray and an ultrasound. In Peru many auxiliary services like these are provided by private organisations, not the main health centres or hospitals, so I had to go to 2 different places, and then return later in the day for the results - both of which were inconclusive. I took these back to the same doctor, and he sent me for a tomography scan (at one of the places I had been to the day before), and I took the results back to him. The report said I appeared to have a "soft mass" on my shoulder-blade, and he said that the health centre could not really do any more as he felt I needed a biopsy so he referred me to a general surgeon at a local hospital.
This surgeon said he thought it was probably a cancerous tumour, but that the shoulder was a secondary location, so I needed a full tomography (chest, abdomen and pelvis) and referred me to an oncologist (with the results) at a private clinic! It was starting to get expensive with all these tests and consultation fees, and the oncologist suggested (since I didn't have insurance) that should cancer and chemotherapy be required that I should consider returning to the UK for the treatment there. I explained that it would cost me around £600 for the airfare alone so unless treatment was going to be more expensive, my best option would be to remain in Peru. The oncologist then referred me to a Traumatologist, as the scans were still "inconclusive" and she felt the "mass" was hard and possibly bony!
The Traumatologist also though the lump was bone, or possibly cartilage, and that a biopsy was needed (Hmm, where had I heard that before? Oh, yes, at the health centre before the second round of expensive tests and consults), so referred me to an endocrinologist and requested a load of blood tests first. I took them to her and my blood sugars were too high to risk the biopsy so was put on a course of pills to try and bring that down, and then, of course, more blood tests! They were still too high, so now am on more pills to bring it down (as well as my cholesterol!) and have two weeks before the next tests!
So far it has cost me more than the price of a ticket back to the UK, and I am still no closer to knowing what the problem is, and still have a large, occasionally painful, lump on my shoulder-blade - the lump isn't painful, but local muscles are. It is looking increasingly unlikely that it is cancerous, or malignant, but still needs dealing with - for me the sooner the better!

Heading home from school

At the moment we are experiencing a long spell of very hot (lows of 27C, and highs of 33C - indoors!), and very dry weather here in Brazil, and it is making sleeping very uncomfortable. I have table fans, but no air-conditioning as the normal method of house construction here is not really suitable for AC - single skin walls, no insulation in the loft space - which would make it very expensive to run, and most of the cool air would dissipate without really being effective.
It reminded me of a trip home from boarding school in Rhodesia to our home in Mozambique, and the most unpleasant night I have ever spent. I used to travel by plane from the sugar estate on the banks of the Zambezi River to Beira, and then catch a train to Rhodesia - the total journey taking around 21 hours, and occurring three times a year (three school terms), but was quite an adventure! On occasion my parents would time a holiday and collect me from school by car, and we would then drive back, usually after spending a few days on holiday as a family first. On this occasion, however, we were going straight back to Mozambique.
I had invited a school-friend to come and spend some time with me - he lived in Ethiopia at the time, where his father was a banker, and his trip home used to take close to three days! My father had a soft-top Toyota Land Cruiser at the time, and though not the most comfortable of vehicles, especially in the back which had hard benches with thin cushions, and no padded backrests, it did have a 4 litre straight 6 petrol engine and ate up the miles (and the fuel!), though the off-road tyres were a little noisy on the tarmac.

Land Cruiser, with doors removed for use on the sugar estate

Of course, back then there were also no seat-belts in such a vehicle, but on the tarred sections, with towels and a blanket to lean on, the journey was comfortable enough. It was decided we would make the trip in two stages - the first 450 kms, crossing the Rhodesia/Mozambique border and then on to Beira, and then the following day we would tackle the dirt.
The first day was uneventful - the Land Cruiser hummed along up and down the hills and valleys without missing a beat, and the border crossing was routine, taking almost no time. We had stopped for lunch in Umtali, where the Rhodesia border was, and continued on towards Beira. Dad was getting a little tired after about 7 hours driving so it was decided that instead of going through to Beira for the night, and then back-tracking the 40 kms to where the turning to home was, that we would look for a hotel and spend the night closer to the turning. In a small town called Dondo, very close to the start of the dirt road, we spotted a likely looking place and pulled in.
We booked two rooms, one for Mum and Dad, and one for Pete and I (two single beds), and after a pleasant meal in their restaurant, settled down for the night, planning an early start at first light. The place was more like a truck-stop motel, with the rooms in blocks of four in separate buildings, and very basic. They had bathrooms with showers, but no fans or air-conditioning - and it was very hot! There was one small window, but keeping that open just filled the room with mosquitoes, and though we had spray the relief was temporary so we decided to keep the window closed!
Sleep was fleeting, as the heat was so oppressive, and Pete and I spent the night taking cold (well, lukewarm, as the water was not that cold) showers and then lying on a towel to allow evaporation to cool us down a little. It gave us a little relief, but we got very little sleep, and eventually at about 03.30 we decided to go for a walk rather than stay in the room. It was cooler outside, and there was also a slight breeze, so we just wandered around for a short while, before heading back. As we passed my parents' room we noticed their light was on, so tapped on the door - they too had not got much sleep due to the heat, so we decided to leave then and continue the journey home.
The Land Cruiser is built for dirt roads, and handled everything the road threw at it. Much of this road is just two deep ruts that all traffic follows, and a previous trip in a car was extremely unpleasant, however the impressive ground clearance of the Toyota meant that even when we had to move aside when we met oncoming traffic, it was no big deal. What was a big deal, though, was that it was really uncomfortable in the back! The makeshift blanket backrests wouldn't stay in place as we bounced along no matter how hard we tried to brace against the bumps. Added to this the soft-top was no protection from the dust, and it was being sucked in through the rear flap, even when closed, and coating everything!
About halfway along the dirt we stopped for a break, at a small place called Inhaminga, and we must have been quite a sight as we climbed out completely covered in dust! We had a bit to eat and then pressed on, though it was decided that at Chupanga, where we met the Zambezi, we would complete the final 50 kms of the journey by railcar since we were all suffering the effects of sleep deprivation, dust inhalation and sore backs from the bouncing!

Railcar - a large flatbed was attacked to carry the Land Cruiser

At Chupanga we had a short delay while waiting for the railcar - they are operated by the sugar company my Dad worked for - and went for a wander round. We discovered the grave of Mary Moffat, wife of explorer David Livingstone, who had come out to join him but died from Malaria.

Gravestone of Mary Moffat, wife of David Livingstone, at Chupanga

The railcar arrived and we loaded up the Land Cruiser and set off again. It was only around 50 kms to Marromeu, on the South bank of the Zambezi, where we would make to crossing, and I was lucky enough to get the front seat alongside the driver so had beautiful fresh air in my face, and a great view of the journey. I looked back at one stage to say something to the others and was alarmed to see the Land Cruiser swaying vigorously from side to side on the flat-bed, but the driver assured me this was normal and no cause for concern! At Marromeu we had to take another form of transport to cross the river - paddle steamer!
The sugar estate used low-draught paddle steamers, with barges attached either side, to transport the sugar from Luabo, our home and the Northern plantations of the sugar estate, to Marromeu and the rail-head that then took them to Beira for distribution - and these paddle steamers were, in fact, the most common form of freight transport too. There was space between the holds for a vehicle, and it was here that the Land Cruiser was loaded - though driving aboard on flimsy-looking planks was always nerve wracking!

One of the paddle steamers belonging to the sugar estate - the Land Cruiser was loaded onto one of the barges.

The trip down and across river, with the current, takes under an hour, and soon we were in Luabo and heading home, after a trip that took the best part of two days, but was also an incredible adventure!

Leaking flush valve

Almost since I moved into my house I have had a slight leak from the flush valve on my toilet in my en-suite bathroom. It is not your normal loo with a cistern attached, but rather the sort you would normally expect to find in a public building, with a "button" on the wall connected to the water supply (in my case a 1500 litre roof-mounter water tank). You press the button and a measured amount (you can adjust it easily) of water flushes your toilet - the main advantage being that there is no wait for the cistern to fill, but you can keep flushing - ideal in, say, an airport toilet, or even an office toilet where there are multiple staff members using the toilet regularly.
The leak initially collected behind the button cover plate, and seeped into the wall, but I removed the plate and placed it in a drawer in my bedroom, and then the leak simply dripped down in front of the wall tiles, doing no damage.
As it is non-standard I have struggled to find a repair kit for this. The first I bought was a different brand, and the wrong size, but eventually I found the correct one, though it needed a specialised tool to remove the front plate - a 24mm box spanner. I could find a 25mm, but not the 24, so the leak remained for months, with an empty ice-cream container catching the dripping water. It was not major so I didn't worry too much about it, but whenever I went to the city I would try some hardware stores to see if they had the correct spanner, and even looked there during my trips to Peru.
I finally managed to get one in the UK, where I had not been for over 2 years, and took that to Peru before returning to my house in Brazil.

Repair kit

As can be seen the instructions for the repair kit (which, in the photo is sitting on top of a sheet of A4 paper) are minuscule, and consisted mainly of an exploded view of the system, while the kit comes ready assembled! It looked as though I had to turn the water from the 1500 litre tank off first, and since this was outside and only accessible using a ladder, I had put this off for a long time! However the leak appeared to be getting worse, and I decided I needed to get myself organised and effect the repair.

Since there are so many "how-to" videos on YouTube I decided to start there, so entered the details into their search box and up came a long list of solutions. The first one looked promising, but it was filmed using a mobile phone, which he set up on the sink about 2 metres from the valve location - and you could see nothing of what he was doing! He kept bringing pieces close to the phone, but they went out of focus, or he held them in such a way the camera didn't pick them up ... and this was the "top pick" most viewed solution!

The next two were no better - both were done by "plumbers" but they were working on a complete brand-new valve, on a worktop not installed in a working location, so basically were pretty useless. It is one thing to work on a "dry" valve, and another to work on something hooked up to the water supply - but both also claimed you had to turn the water supply off first!

I was about to give up watching and get straight to work when I noticed a clip by the manufacturer!!! Why it is not the number 1 clip I have no idea, but it was professionally done, covered several different scenarios, including if there was still a leak after you installed the kit and possible causes, and, best of all, showed that you didn't have to turn the water supply off first, but simply had to screw the valve in tight first which cut the water off!

So armed with this knowledge this morning I easily completed the work - well, removing the 24mm bolt took some effort as it was incredibly tight, and also when I removed the nipple and washer (top left in my photo) I found evidence of an earlier attempt at a repair, which appeared to consist of packed the area beneath the nipple with something like Blu-tack! Removing the complete old assembly (replacement one shown bottom right of the photo) was also not that easy, and took several attempts using levers and spanners to ease it out without damaging the old one. Put everything together, adjusted the water volume and ... no leak.

Final part of the job was to replace the cover plate and button, which were in my top drawer ... or not! They were in the second drawer, or rather the plate and screws, but not the button were! I searched high and low, including other parts of the house where the button had no reason to be - and then realisation dawned on me ... these had been moved by my rogue house-sitter in 2017, who had gone through all my stuff, and chances are that he had no idea what the plastic button was and may even have disposed of it, but whatever the reason I now have to try and get a new button to complete the repair. At least it doesn't leak any more!

Workmanship

I am not sure when I first became interested in DIY (do it yourself), though I do recall that my father was an avid gardener, and also used to do some basic tasks around the house. My early years were spent either sharing a house with my grandparents, or in rented accommodation, so my family didn't own a house until 1963, when I was 10, and as it was a new build it didn't need much doing to it, though my dad did build me a wardrobe in my bedroom, on the plinth that jutted into my bedroom to give headroom for the stairs!
I am not sure of the exact dates but I know at some stage he bought the Reader's Digest Do-it-yourself manual, which as well as hints and tips for DIY-ers, also had a section on simple projects for the home. I was an avid reader so used to dip into this from time to time, and enjoyed the step-by-step instructions the massive book contained. Years later I bought one for myself, amongst other DIY books, and it became my "bible" for any work I wanted to do. Back then we did not have the luxury of the internet, and endless "how-to" (and "how-not-to"!!) videos on YouTube, nor numerous sites that gave instructions how to do basic tasks around the home, so we had to rely on books if we wanted to do the work ourselves.
Back then, too, specialist tools were not available to the home handyman, or the price was so prohibitive that it was not worth buying something that might only be used for one job. Now the market is flooded with cheap imports (dare I say, mainly from China) and I, along with many others, had a pretty well equipped toolbox, not the best quality, and probably not good enough if you were a serious tradesman, but adequate for occasional basic projects. There are now, at least in the UK, a myriad of Hire Shops, where you can rent specialist equipment for those occasions when your own tools are inadequate. For example, I have in the past hired a floor sander to smooth off old parquet flooring.
But I am getting ahead of myself. By 1976 (when I was 23) I still hadn't really done any DIY, but during a study break from work, when I stayed with some friends near Pietermaritzburg, in South Africa, I helped out with the construction of a concrete shower enclosure in their bathroom. I worked on some of the pipework, and a little of the concreting, and seemed to do OK at it.
Upon my return to the UK in 1978 I joined the family grocery business, and in 1979 we decided to open a bakery in the adjoining property (which we owned but had previously rented to a hairdresser). To convert the shop we needed quite a bit of work to be done, so called in a local builder, who we knew, for a quotation. We needed two sinks installing, a water heater, suitable flooring laying (over floorboards), a 3 metre long work bench with shelving beneath, walls painting, and shelving built in a store-room. He came in took a load of measurements and the following day called back with his quotation - £10,000!! This was more than double the price we were expecting, and in 1979 was very expensive for a fairly simple job for a qualified builder. We got the impression he didn't really want such a small (for him) job, as he was in much demand for house building, so was "trying it on". We rejected his quote and turned to the newspaper adverts, where we came across a man offering his services for "renovations and small building projects", so gave him a call (remember no internet back in those days!). He again took some measurements, and made some notes, but before leaving told us "this job is really too big for me"!
At this stage I decided I would try and do most of the work myself. We needed to have three-phase power installed by the Electricity Board, and they offered to install the water heater (over the sink) at the same time, for little more than the cost of the heater - we just had to chisel out an entry hole for the 3-phase cabling under the exterior wall (which was not as easy as it sounds as the house was over 100 years old and there was a lot of very hard flint to chisel through) and the rest of the installation was free!
(Full details about the bakery are in a separate post Opening a bakery)
We got a company to lay industrial grade flooring over the floorboards, which again was fairly cheap, and I started sourcing the other materials we would need. I bought a pair of stainless steel single drainer sinks (left and right) from a local DIY store, which were on clearance and cost £25 for the pair! I drew up plans for the workbench and calculated how much timber I needed and went to a local timber merchant. When he saw the quantities he asked what it was for, and then offered me 35% trade discount! He also gave me a lot of advice about how to go about doing the job, and suggested some alternatives to those I was planning to use, in all saving me a lot of money.
We painted the walls ourselves, using gloss on the walls in the main bakery area and emulsion on the ceiling, and in the "display" area, and this was a big mistake! The levels of condensation produced by the heat and steam in the bakery soon produced mould spores, and no amount of cleaning would prevent this. Through a trade publication we contacted a specialist paint company, and bought two different types of very expensive specialist paint, but after applying these we never had the problems again!
I also plumbed in the two sinks, having first built a bench to hold them, with shelves underneath, and there were no leaks!
My dad already owned an electric drill, screwdrivers and chisels, and we did buy a mitre joint set, though this was used with hand saws to create all the joints, and by the end of the work I had blisters from screwing the hundreds of countersunk screws manually (realised as I neared the end that we could have bought a cordless screwdriver!)!
The finished product looked amazing, if I say so myself, and soon we were ready to start baking. Aside from my labour cost - I did most of it myself as my dad was working in the grocery shop next door - the total cost of all the materials, the water heater, flooring, paint, etc. came to under £2500, and took under a month to complete. The work had been challenging, though early on I realised that nothing had really been beyond my abilities, and this new-found confidence led me to attempt other projects in the future. Previously I hadn't considered myself to be very adept at manual tasks like this, but as the work progressed I soon came to the realisation that often you restrict yourself in what you do, or even attempt, by not even trying to challenge your abilities!
With my new-found confidence over the years I attempted even more challenging projects, the most satisfying one being installing an en-suite bathroom! We lived in a Dormer Bungalow (a bungalow that has had a second storey added in the eaves) and the bathroom was downstairs with three bedrooms upstairs (and a fourth downstairs which we converted into a workroom for my wife who ran a cake making business from home). 
The master bedroom was large enough to accommodate a good-sized bathroom, but we didn't have the money for the conversion, though over several years we bought bits and pieces for it when we found them on offer, so matching sink and toilet, shower enclosure, and even tiles were bought and stored away. Finally we decided we had saved enough to make a start, but the big concern was how to get rid of the waste. Our bedroom had a sink in it already in the corner, which had a drain pipe, but this was only around 5cm, so unsuitable for a toilet. We were unsure how to proceed so realised that here we needed expert advice so called in a plumber, with the intention that he would do the plumbing work for us. He wanted to cut channels in the joists to run the waste pipes, and was talking of having to install reinforcements (as the joists were load bearing!) and his quote, just for the plumbing work was more than our total budget! We declined the offer!
Just through the wall from where the en-suite was to be there was a small loft space (housing our central heating header tank also), though it had very restricted headroom, meaning it was more a crawl space, and this was where the electrics were going to come from, as well as where the new water pipes were going to be run. On the outside wall of the house adjacent to this was the vent pipe from the domestic sewer, and this was a 20mm pipe, and during my research I had read that is was perfectly acceptable to join a toilet waste into this, so a new plan started forming - connect the shower and sink to the old sink waste, but the toilet waste would run through the crawl space and into the vent pipe - the biggest worry being whether there would be sufficient "fall" for the waste to run away. The measurements indicated it was just about adequate - without making any further structural alterations - so we went for it!
I am a planner - which means that before undertaking any project I make lots of drawings, take copious measurements, and try to consider all eventualities, and then get all the materials in before I start, so I don't find myself in the embarrassing situation of, say, having cut the electric off and not have the necessary materials to reconnect, and it being Sunday with the shops closed! My wife found that a bit frustrating, as she wanted to jump in and get started, but over the years realised that my way was ultimately quicker and more efficient, as once started we could just crack on until the job was finished! She was also a keen DIY-er so we did much of the work together - she was a dab hand at tiling - and in the end completed it all ourselves, including plumbing and electrical work (nowadays you have to be a certified electrician to do electrics, but since my handiwork is still going strong around 25 years later it bears testament to the workmanship!), and came in well within budget, and only one or two minor problems along the way. One of these was a leaking joint, which took many attempts to resolve, and the second - well, I had a rush of blood to the head while installing the electrics! We were installing three wall lights, as well as an electric shower which got its own wiring and a new circuit breaker, and the idea was that two lights would be linked and the third - over the sink - independent. I planned all the wiring and started running it to the fittings and the switches - to the fittings through the stud wall behind, and to the switches hidden under the coving we were going to attack between wall and ceiling. So I ran the wires to all the locations they were needed, and then we fixed the coving - leaving the electrics to be completed later. When I came to connect the wiring to the switches I had my "moment" - despite all my careful planning beforehand I suddenly though that I could bypass one of the wires I had laid, so removed it and connected the rest up - and flicked the switch! The lights came on - the single one worked fine, but the two linked ones? They came on nice and bright, but when you went to switch them off they just went dim! I realised immediately that I did, after all, need the second wire, which I had pulled out from under the coving, as per my original drawing! Fortunately I managed to replace the wire with the only "damage" being a small square cut into the outside (bedroom-side) stud wall to feed the wire back through, and this was then taped back in place, and wallpapered over (we had not yet done that final piece of the project), and you would never have known there had been a problem!
Now that I am getting older, so am not as physically able as I once was I tend to employ local "craftsmen" to do jobs for me - like exterior house painting, floor tiling, etc. but here in rural Brazil it is very frustrating since most "tradesmen" have no formal training or experience, and the quality of their workmanship leaves a lot to be desired. Paint splashes everywhere - on the floor tiles, across light switches - and even roller strokes on the ceiling where they have over-run, and no attempt to clean up. Irregular gaps between tiles, poorly applied grout, and I have twice had to show "experts" how to measure and cut edge tiles. In many cases, too, I have had to supply the tools as well as the materials - here a "quotation" is just for the labour, you are given a list of what materials are needed, and usually end up with plenty of spares for the next project! In almost all cases I have more experience, and certainly more skill at the work I am paying for, and spend a lot of time "showing " them the right way to do it, but no longer the physical capability, and outdoors no tolerance to the heat and sun.
I am currently waiting for my "man" to finish repainting my two wrought-iron (not as fancy as that sounds!) gates - I supplied him with a wire brush, sandpaper (for metal), paintbrushes, thinners, primer and enamel paint. It took him 3 days - working around 2 hours a day - to prepare and prime the gates, then I didn't see him for 4 days. He then appeared asking if I had any more work for him - so I pointed out the gates needed painting as he had only primed them (he didn't seem to realise that "primer" was an undercoat!), so he spent 2 more hours painting one of the gates - and then disappeared again! It is now 8 days later and he still hasn't returned to top-coat the other gate! Here you have to take what you can get - or suck it up and do it all yourself!

Going home from Angola

In 1963 my father's three year contract in Luanda, Angola, was up, and though he was offered an extension (and expat terms were very good, as the salary included housing, and schooling costs) it was decided that we would return to the UK. My sister would be 12 later that year and higher education for foreigners meant boarding school in Rhodesia, something that some of the other expats did, but my parents were reluctant to send their daughter to another country for 9 months of the year!
Dad had been offered a very good job back in England with the company he worked for, so we booked a passage by sea back to the UK. We had travelled out in 1960 on a small passenger liner called the Thysville, but our return was to be on an even smaller tramp steamer, the SS Vikaren, which only had 6 passenger cabins, being primarily a freight ship. Tramp steamers are so called as they do not have a fixed schedule, though this one plied the route between Holland and Angola, but varied the stopping ports depending on the cargo.

The SS Vikaren at anchor

When we boarded in Luanda there was another couple on board already, but they disembarked at our first stop, Lobito (also in Angola), so from then on we were the only passengers on board. The ship was Swedish registered and most of the senior crew were Swedish, and with my Mum being Danish she was able to easily converse with them, and once the other passengers left we were invited to dine with the officers from then on. The ship had a small saloon with easy chairs and a record player, and I recall that Doris Day was one of the few English language records.
The main cargo was some kind of animal feed destined for Freetown, in Sierra Leone, but we did stop off at some other places on the way to unload cargo, and our first destination was São Tomé, a small Portuguese island off the coast of Gabon.

The ship anchored offshore 

Being a Portuguese territory we had no problems with language and booked a taxi to take us a short tour of the island.

Central São Tomé, I think

Washing day

Waterfall on the island - taxi guide on the right!

We were only moored for a day or so, then set off again towards Freetown, Sierra Leone, where the majority of the cargo - and, we found later, most of the sailors - were being "unloaded". As it was not a passenger liner there was not a lot to do on board, no organised entertainment (though they did occasionally raise a cargo hatch cover at night and project a film onto this makeshift "screen"), no pool, and so on, but as long as I was careful I was allowed pretty much carte blanche to wander wherever I wanted, and soon came across a group of sailors painting the deck. Apparently each voyage between ports, when there was not much for the deck crew to do, they did some maintenance, and it wasn't long before I was jokingly handed a paint brush and invited to join in - the officer in charge had no objection, and from then until Freetown as soon as I finished breakfast I would go and find the crew and help with the painting!! It made a strange sight - a small (9 year old) English boy working alongside burly African sailors, but I persevered almost every day until lunchtime! When they were being paid off in Freetown, receiving bags of rice, flour and salt as well as their final pay, they spotted me standing with my family - Dad was taking some photos - and they shouted to the quartermaster that he should pay me too for the work I had done!

Unloading in Freetown, and loading a new cargo

Berthed in Freetown

Drop net fishing in Freetown

We had noticed a lot of small fish milling around the docks in Freetown, and mentioned it to one of the officers as I was interested in seeing if we could do some fishing, so he dispatched one of the cooks with a drop net, and we caught a lot of small fish, which were then cooked for dinner later!
I had my 10th birthday on board, which I thought would be a very quiet affair as we were the only passengers, but we had a small party thrown by the officers and I received a few gifts, the only one I recall being a stamp catalogue (the Swedish equivalent of Stanley Gibbons!) by the Radio Officer (Sparky!), who was also a stamp collector and we had spent some pleasant hours discussing our collections! It was obviously in Swedish, which I didn't understand, but had a lot of detail about what to look for in "rarer" stamps (missing watermarks or perforations, design not straight, etc.) so was very useful.
Our next - and final stop before Rotterdam - was Dakar, the capital of Senegal - where some more cargo was unloaded. We again anchored offshore and the cargo, and us, was ferried ashore.

Approaching Dakar 

Cargo being taken ashore by barge and tug

Locals paddled out on canoes to sell produce

 As in many ports throughout the world as soon as you anchored or moored a flotilla of canoes would appear and mill round trying to sell, primarily, fresh produce, but here it was mainly souvenirs and local craft goods. They would throw up a rope with a basket attached and you would pull it up, inspect the contents and then haggle over a price - if you were happy you returned the empty basket with your payment in it!! The prices were, to me, ridiculously cheap, and far less than what you would pay in a stall on land!

More vessels, some with sails, unloading cargo

Railway Station in Dakar

We have travelled twice to Africa by ship - in 1960 on the way to Angola, and again in 1967 (though, of course, this was to come later) when we (at least Mum, my sister and I, as Dad had flown out earlier to start his new job) - and on both occasions my sister and I had been really ill with sea-sickness, especially through the Bay of Biscay, which is notorious for high seas. However by the time we reached the Bay this time we were so accustomed to the movement of the ship that we passed through with no problems, though the chairs in the saloon had been chained to the floor, though not before Mum went flying one day! I had also wondered why the mess tables had upstands all round, and the decanters had wide flat bases, and that also became evident in the rougher seas - though they had also placed some non-stick mats on the tables so we didn't lose our plates!
We were given an African Grey Parrot, Jacko, while in Angola and he accompanied us on our journey home. We had to get all the paperwork sorted out prior to leaving, but as he was not leaving the ship until Rotterdam, and then just between the ship and the ferry across to the UK, we were informed that he needed nothing special, but would be quarantined upon arrival in the UK (I do not actually recall if this was the case then, but research implies it was!). We had a large wooden "cage" built with steel bars so he could see out, and he stayed in the same cabin as my sister and I. He was generally a fairly quiet bird, but a good talker, though my father was the only family member who could handle him, but feeding him was not a problem. He chewed his way out of the wooden cage, though, en route and that did become a problem, until the crew managed to make some running repairs!
One thing we hadn't realised though was that when we landed in Rotterdam we had to take a train to The Hague to catch the ferry, and this meant that Jacko was technically imported into Holland, so subject to their strict animal import laws! There followed a long discussion between my parents and the Dutch authorities, and eventually - as long as we kept him in a covered cage at all times - they allowed us to make the train journey to The Hague, where it was quite a rush to catch the ferry. We arrived back in the UK at the end of one of the worst winters on record, and after the warmth of Africa it was bitterly cold for us.
Our first African adventure had been an amazing experience for me, and was probably the start of my love for travel and foreign places.

(Footnote: I may have some of the photos incorrectly captioned - my father took all these on a 35mm slide camera, and I later scanned them all digitally, but most were not labelled, so I have had to try and remember - 55 years later - which belonged where, and, especially the "offshore" ones, may be wrong, but were definitely from that trip!)

Almost at the centre of civil war!

Mozambique was a Portuguese colony until 1975, when the country was handed over to the Frelimo (Front for the Liberation of Mozambique) following capitulation by Portugal after almost 10 years of a terrorist war. Frelimo had been relatively ineffective during the war, based outside the country and receiving support mainly from Russia, but in April 1974 a coup in Portugal overthrew the government and the new regime decided against supporting the expensive war against Frelimo, so in September 1974 it was decreed that the army would n longer fight against Frelimo, and that power would be handed over in 1975 with the granting of Independence.
This move was not very popular in Mozambique, and there was much dissent among the population, who felt that at the very least elections should be held, not simply a handover to a foreign-based terrorist organisation, of which, it was rumoured, many of the leaders were not even Mozambican or Portuguese-speaking. It was believed that Portugal had sold out the people of Mozambique, many of whom, myself included (as I had lived there since 1967), had not seen any real evidence of the terrorist war! Despite this the army was being recalled to the city bases, and some were even being sent back to Portugal.
There was a major incident in Lourenço Marques, Mozambique's capital, which almost spiralled out into civil war. According to legend a group of recalled Marines were having coffee in the city centre and a shoe-shine boy approached, sporting a t-shirt with the Frelimo flag on it. He pointed to this shirt and told the Marines that soon they would be honouring this flag, not the flag of Portugal, and so one of the Marines gave him a slap and told him to be on his way. The boy called the Police, and when the officer remonstrated with the soldiers all hell broke loose. The Marines were armed and a gunfight ensued resulting in a few civilian casualties, before their General managed to calm things down and they were arrested and taken back to base.
This disturbance spurred the disgruntled public to start a movement in Beira for a free independent Mozambique, with elections to decide on the future. The main square - in front of the office block I worked in! - was renamed (unofficially) Independence Square, and a lorry was parked there, equipped with loudspeakers, with a variety of people, some local politicians, speaking for a free multi-racial (Mozambique was one of the few sub-Saharan countries that didn't have a racist agenda prior to Independence) independence, rather than the capitulation proposed by Portugal. There were large, not huge, crowds in attendance, and the whole thing was incredibly peaceful and civilised.
I had a small one-bedroomed apartment not far from the city centre and my sister had travelled down from Luabo, in Zambézia province, with my nephew who was only 4 at the time. The unrest caused by the troubles in Lourenço Marques had unnerved some people on the British-run Sugar Estate on the banks of the Zambezi, which was felt to be a serious target for Frelimo as it provided around 10% of the country's foreign revenue, so, like my sister, had come to the city for a few days while the situation was tense.
The demonstration had started on the Saturday, and on Sunday many of the expats had met at the golf club and discussed the situation. There was talk of a local strike on the Monday to support the movement, and as the company I worked for was a South African owned one, it was felt that we should comply to show support, but my boss asked that we all turned up for work and a decision would be taken if the demonstration was still in place in front of our office.
My sister was hoping to do some shopping while in Beira, and as it was only a short walk to the centre it was agreed that if I didn't come home by 09.00 (we started at 07.00, so a decision on work would have been made very early) then it was safe for her to make her way in.
I arrived at work and there was a crowd of a few hundred around the truck, all chanting and waving placards, but still peacefully demonstrating - so I parked round the back of the building and made my way inside. Everyone was at the front window overlooking the square, which apart from the demonstration on one corner, pretty much looked like any other day with people walking through on their daily business, but it was soon decided that we would also close since many of our clients would be closed, and therefore it was a prudent decision. 
Before anyone could leave, however, army trucks started pouring into the square opposite the demonstrators and armed troops dismounted. They formed up across the square and told the demonstrators to disperse, but then charged across the square towards the demonstrators! We saw innocent people simply walking through the square being hit with batons, and when an elderly couple were knocked down just below us our office manager (a Scot) ran down, against advice, to offer assistance. There were a few gunshots, and as the crowd ran out of the square behind our building, where my car was parked, there were a couple of grenade blasts too!
We were trapped in our building as the army were all milling about in the square and the streets surrounding us, and there was no way I could warn my sister what was going on, and expected at any moment to see her wander into the square with my nephew in tow! By 10.00 all was quiet again, though there was still an army presence, and it was decided that it was safe enough for us all to leave, and stay away until at least Wednesday when things hopefully would have calmed down.
I quickly drove home to find that my sister was safely at home, my domestic help (part-time) had warned her that the streets were not safe, and she had waited to hear from me! We headed out of town to the beach for the rest of the day, and it went without incident - apart from getting two punctures, and having to drive slowly on the second flat tyre to a repair place to get them both fixed as it was deemed unsafe to leave the car and walk with 2 tyres.
It turned out the the government in Lourenço Marques had ordered the army to put down any resistance to the handover the following year, which further enraged many - the army were no longer going to fight against the terrorists, but were going to fight against its own people who were simply exercising their right to protest peacefully!
I found out later in the year, before leaving for South Africa in January 1975, that following the decree in September that Frelimo would be given power in 1975, a powerful organisation, funded by many wealthy Mozambicans who stood to lose a lot upon Independence, and with some serious military firepower, had been planning to mount a coup late in 1975 to take power and thwart the proposed Independence. They had hoped that by then the Portuguese military forces would have been severely depleted, and that Portugal would not have had the stomach to oppose the coup, who had numbers and weapons, so they could have easily taken over. The premature demonstrations had resulted in the army being ordered to stand against any threats to the Independence process, effectively stymieing their coup ambitions.
By Wednesday life had returned to normal, so I went back to work, my sister and nephew returned to Luabo, and it was as though nothing had ever happened!