Every year, huge numbers of Kiwi’s migrate from the cities to their dream lifestyle blocks on the fringes of population.
Every year, equally huge numbers ofÂ disillusionedÂ Kiwi’s migrate back to the city as they realise the rural-esque life is just not for them.
Having both been brought up up on lifestyle properties and farms, my wife and I at least have some idea of what will be in store for us. Â Although possibly an endless search, we always have our eye out for that perfect location – not too far fromÂ civilization (and work)Â to beÂ impractical, not too big to beÂ unmanageable, not too rugged to beÂ inaccessible, but of courseÂ beautiful, brimming with nature,Â and with a gorgeous view. Â Not too much to ask for then.
This gives me a great excuse for another project – designing a hill house to take advantage of the view and sun. Â I have some specific ideas, and so does my wife. Â I want a rounded shape to hug the hill contour and follow the sun – she wants 90 degree corners so that furniture fits. Â Luckily most of our requirements are complementary!
There was a time when TVs were like small fridges with blurry, curved screens, and 1080 was just a pesticide. Â One day we will tell our children and grand children, and they will laugh, and then we will realise how absolutely ridiculous those old things were.
That time (for me) was only last year. Â But the local Dick Smith (not a variation of ‘Lock Smith’ or ‘Gold Smith’, but an electronics chain store in New Zealand) was having a sale.
I had my eye on a shiny, slim 37″ Sony Bravia model, and since it was clearance stock the salesman said we would save a whole bunch of money by buying it. Â My wife cautiously agreed – on one condition; that it fit into our current TV cabinet. Â So I looked up the model on the internet, measured twice, checked thrice, and it would fit easy! Â So you can imagine myÂ surpriseÂ when we had the TV home and it wouldn’t fit in the hole. Â TheyÂ must have given us the bigger model!
Sadly, no. Â Seems I took the measurements without the stand. Â Oops. Â Now we have nowhere to put the TV and it seems I have another project to add to the list…
Perhaps just eager to start a new project, or possibly realising the magnitude of building a full-size sports car from scratch, one of my latest project ideas is to build an urban personal vehicle.
Urban personal transportation is just a spiffy name for a small vehicle that carries a single person and is meant for city driving. In other words; a tiny vehicle with no air bags, crash protection or other safety features; no modernÂ conveniences or driver comfort; a pathetic travel range; and no room for a wife/child/friend, or even a bag of groceries. Â Extremely impractical – I like it already!
Many examples of these already exist. Â Here is one of myÂ favouriteÂ from yester-year, the Peel P50, as featured in an hilarious Top Gear feature where Clarkson drove it to his office. Â All the way to his office.
Image from Indiaserver.com
What started off as a loose flap of wallpaper way down in the corner of the room ended up as something much bigger. Â Somehow. Â Now more serious measures are required. Â Like I needed an excuse to start another project…
We have a couple of paint test pots from the Resene ‘whites and neutrals’ range. Â Quarter Akaroa, and quarter tea from memory. Â We want a much lighter, neutral colour on the walls (currently sort of a dark khaki green), and then add some brightness with the wall hangings and other bits and pieces.
When my wife and I moved in to our first house together, we inherited an older wooden coffee table from my parents. Â The coffee table was covered with a shiny layer of varnish that I thought would look better naturally oiled. Â My father is somewhat of a handyman when it comes to timber, so I assumed some of it had rubbed off on me. Â After sanding straight through the veneer, exposing a nice bright patch of MDF, I realised it hadn’t.
So the coffee table inherited a permanent table cloth, and I started my plans for a new coffee table. Â I had already successfully designed our bed, bedside cabinets and dressers – though my parents had these built by a furniture maker for our wedding – but I had yet to build my first piece of furniture.
Long story [snip] short [/snip], my father provided the timber (some nice 2″ thick macrocarpa for the top and frame, and 4″ for the legs), and I set to measuring, measuring, cutting, gluing and screwing. Â Not too long (in my project-time terms), the end result:
For those interested in the plans (sorry, they are rather bare):
They say the first step is admitting the problem.
I have project-itis
There, I said it. Â I have project-itis. Â A need to start yet another project and leave the raft of others for a day that my attention will wander back to them. Â I just can’t help myself. Â My brain craves new, shiny things. Â I’m a project junky.
I initially categorised it as ‘excessive-project syndrome’. Â My wife (who is a scientist) says that, concisely, it should be ‘excessive-unfinished-project syndrome’, because it is the unfinished part that is the problem! Â I call it project-itis, because it is friendlier.
So what do I do? Â I start this blog. Â Another project.
Just more proof that I have a problem…