Category Archives: Maintenance

Tanks a lot

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Filed under Building works, Maintenance

There are times living here in rural Mallorca that I am reminded of an ’80s comedy movie called ‘The Money Pit’, starring a youthful-looking Tom Hanks and Shelley Long (best known as cocktail waitress Diane in the TV comedy ‘Cheers’) as a couple who, for various reasons, end up buying an old house in need of renovation. Only the work is never finished, as the place gradually falls apart around them.

Now, I wouldn’t want you to think that our finca is like that, but there have been a number of times when it has seemed that as one job finishes, another presents itself.

The turn of the cisterna

We’ve recently re-roofed the place; replaced the kitchen sink tap (for the second time), and done some necessary work on the gates to our drive. Are we due a little break from repairs and expenditure? No. Now, it seems, our cisterna (water storage tank) needs a little attention. One of what The Boss calls his ‘Monday checks’ is to monitor the level of water in the cisterna (so that we know when to order a delivery from Jaume, the water man). And he discovered that the metal lid – now very old and slowly degrading – had fallen into the water inside, leaving our supply open to the elements. Any passing pigeon or seagull, with a sense of devilment – and, it must be said, quite a good aim – could have pooped into our water supply.

Despite the fact that the water would be very cold, The Boss had to do a little angling to retrieve the lid, which will soon have to be replaced with a new one. But a routine inspection of the tank also revealed a small leak – probably caused by the metal lid spiking the membrane that lines the old concrete cisterna; the membrane that we had installed just a few years ago, after the ageing concrete tank developed a nasty leak.

Feeling drained

Back then, we had called in the builders, who gave us a couple of options: have a new cisterna built (expensive), or have a lining put in (not so expensive). We opted for the latter and arranged the date for the work to be done, hoping that we’d worked out accurately when the water supply would be almost exhausted.

The day before the builders were due, we were alarmed to find that we still had quite a lot of water left. Because we would be unable to use the cisterna for 24 hours after the lining was put in, we’d filled the bath and various receptacles in the house with water, for loo flushing and general use. We then set about giving our garden the best watering of its life, until all that was left was a small puddle in the bottom of the cisterna. Just as we’d finished, we received a phone call from the builders. They were very sorry, but they were unable to come out to do the work the next day . . .

Footnote:

Thank you to Anders, from Sweden, who recently added a useful comment on my earlier posting about water cisternas, which you can read here: http://livinginruralmallorca.com/2012/08/13/5-things-to-know-when-buying-a-rural-property-in-mallorca-part-1/

Another Tap Bites the Dust . . .

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Filed under Food and drink, Maintenance

In all the recent excitement of having our rural finca in Mallorca re-roofed, we were tolerating – rather than tackling – a small domestic irritation. And, like many problems we’ve had since moving to the Mallorcan countryside, it was water-related.

Here Be a Dragon

When we first moved here, the kitchen was little more than a room containing an old stainless steel sink, a gas-powered fridge/freezer (don’t ever go there), some pine shelves and a small pine cupboard topped with a slab of marble. Oh, and of course there was the gas cooker, which – for reasons you can probably imagine – I christened ‘the dragon’. Who needs eyebrows anyway?

Within a few months we’d sourced ourselves a fitted kitchen, which transformed what would have been Delia Smith’s worst nightmare into something any of Mallorca’s five* Michelin-starred cuisine-producing chefs would be happy to do a turn in. (Oh, I wish!).

We chose a very stylish kitchen sink, with the appearance of stone, and a smart matching tap. Rather expensive but, we thought, you don’t replace such things every five minutes. However, the water in Mallorca is very hard and contains a lot of cal – or lime – and it’s a pesky nuisance when it comes to clogging up water-using appliances, including taps.

Cal Claims Another Victim

In February 2011, the kitchen tap started spewing water everywhere like a fountain in a force 10 gale. We called Cito, owner of the local plumbing firm we’ve used since we bought the finca. We’re such regular customers that Cito treats us like best friends; if he sees us in town, there’s always a frenzy of kissing and hugging. So when Cito declared that our tap was beyond repair, we knew it wasn’t just a ruse to sell us a new one, rather than repair the existing one.

Plumber Miquel Angel knows our kitchen very well indeed

We took his recommendation and bought one that cost more than we really wanted to pay, but were assured that the manufacturer was a good one. The shiny chrome version (alas, the one that had matched the sink was no longer being manufactured) was duly installed.

Water, Water, Everywhere …

Some six or seven weeks ago, we returned home to find a large pool of water on the kitchen floor. We couldn’t blame Minstral, our Birman cat; he’s never yet been caught short on the way to his litter tray. It didn’t take long to realise that the water was leaking from a joint on the tap, running along the back of the worktop, under the dishwasher and then cascading onto the floor. Our very own indoor waterfall . . .

Not wanting any further disruption from workmen, we lived with this situation throughout the roofing job by wrapping a sponge around the base of the tap to soak up the leaking water. Not ideal. On Monday this week we finally called in Cito and, on Tuesday morning, Miquel Angel – one of his employees – came to sort out the problem. Once again, it seemed that the tap was unrepairable and a new one was fitted. The good news is that Cito believes the leaky tap probably had a manufacturing fault, so he’s returning it to the company for repair or replacement. Meanwhile, he’s only charging us for the labour. Now that’s what I call service . . .

FOOTNOTE

Michelin-starred cuisine at Es Fum restaurant in Costa d’en Blanes, Mallorca

 

Yes, you did read correctly: Mallorca has five restaurants with Michelin-starred cuisine. The latest awards were made in the Michelin Guide Spain & Portugal 2013 last evening in Madrid.  And there are also three restaurants with the Bib Gourmand, offering “high quality, affordable cuisine.” The island also has around 60 wineries – a number of which produce stonking prize-winning wines – and a host of products loved by gourmets way beyond our shores. Mallorca is often negatively portrayed in the British tabloid press, but please believe that there’s more to this Spanish island than the resort of Magaluf and its well-publicised problems. The great gastronomy is just one of the many reasons to visit Mallorca.

Pass the ladder, it’s time to get off my high horse . . .

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012

Putting a damper on things

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Filed under Building works, Maintenance, Weather/Climate

With apologies to Jane Austen . . .

Our new zinc guttering in place . . . well, you’d hardly want to look at a patch of damp-blackened wall, would you?!

It is a truth universally acknowledged that when you attempt to make improvements to an old Mallorcan finca, something will come back to bite you. We’ve experienced this so many times, and it’s a truth that ensures that the finca owner will never have time to twiddle their thumbs and be bored. Cross one job off the list and another (or, if you’re really unlucky, several) will have to be added.

Something’s brewing

Even as we were breathing sighs of relief that we would no longer have rain leaking through the roof into the house – and would have a warmer winter because of the addition of insulation – another problem was brewing.

During our roof repair project, we had some significant rainfall on a few occasions. Fortunately, the new roof lining, insulation, and a layer of concrete had already been applied, and only the tiles and guttering were missing. So although no rain fell through the roof, it did cascade straight down the walls because of the lack of tiles and guttering.

Our walls of made mostly of marès stone – the attractive honey-coloured local sandstone that’s a feature of many iconic buildings on Mallorca, including La Seu, the beautiful cathedral in Palma. It looks beautiful, but has the disadvantage of being extremely porous. And so our walls soaked up all that cascading rain . . .

Hiding behind the sofa

In the past few days I’ve been noticing a distinct smell of damp whenever I entered the house.  And for good reason: the water soaked up by our 60cm-thick walls has, in places, succeeded in reaching the internal walls. A few black spots are peppered here and there in a couple of rooms at the back of the house – which gets no sunshine at this time of the year. And this morning, when I moved the sofa in our sitting room, I was greeted by a large swathe of damp-blackened wall.

The post-project clean-up outside will have to wait: we have an appointment with a bottle of bleach, a sponge and some rubber gloves . . .

Ah, happy Monday!

The rain in Spain could be less of a pain

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Testing, testing  . . . yep, the roof appears to be watertight. We’ve had enough rain over the weekend on Mallorca to put the repairs to the test, and the various buckets that usually come into play during stormy weather haven’t been necessary. The timing of the repair project couldn’t have been better: the builders finished applying the concrete over the roof surface on Thursday evening . . . and the rain started on Friday.

Black is black

The house currently looks like a total reformation project. The Boss has swathed all of the window shutters in black plastic to protect them from concrete splatters – and the plastic will remain until the tiles are back on the roof and the workmen have headed for projects new. Now I know what it feels like to be a mole . . .

At 7.50am this morning, the gang reported for duty. There was even a modest amount of stomping about on the roof – which must have been slippery after all the rain. But by 8.30am, they were sitting in their minibus, eating their second breakfast, and peering out through the misted-up windows. And that was the last we saw of them for today. Rain stopped work – and rightly so; we don’t want any builders sliding off the roof, thank you!

An unexpected visit

We’ve probably all heard negative stories about Spanish builders, so here’s a positive one:  On Friday – a public holiday here – Juan, the senior foreman, drove out to our house during a heavy shower, to check that we didn’t have any leaks inside the house. Now that’s what I call service.

Who lives in a house like this? Er, we do.

 

Pussycat Palio

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After a weekend without builders, the men are back at our finca in Mallorca. And they’ve increased in number. The foreman told us this morning that rain is forecast for later this week and they’re keen to ensure that we have at least the new lining on the whole roof, so that we don’t have any serious leaks indoors. So an extra pair of hands has been drafted in to speed up the process. And the decibel level of the conversation level has ratcheted up too. They’re speaking Arabic, so I’ve no idea what they’re talking about, but it sounds jolly lively.

A Pillow of Stones

As I write, the men have just finished their lunchtime siesta; after they’ve eaten their packed lunches, they stretch out on the ground and have a snooze. It really can’t be comfortable, with so many stones in our field, but they return to the job – and their ongoing conversation – with renewed vigour.

During their break, while things are quiet again, we catch up on any phone calls and snatch a bite of lunch outside, on the one part of the terraces that hasn’t been taken over by stacks of roof tiles. For a change, we’re eating alone: our family of outdoor cats heads for the hills as soon as the builders arrive. None of them is keen on strangers. We’ll not see them now until this evening, when all is quiet again.

In fine race form and waiting for nightfall.

And They’re Off!

But we’re certainly hearing them. In the middle of the night. One or two of our outdoor cats have previously ventured up onto the roof, but now that the tiles are off and there’s a smooth flat surface up there, it’s become the venue for what sounds to us (beneath it) like the feline equivalent of the Palio di Siena horse race.

The cats are clearly having fun, even if I’m not really enjoying the disruption, dirt and the din. Still, I have tomorrow to look forward to: I’ll be out for a couple of hours, as I have a dental appointment. I never thought there’d come a day when I’d rather have a back tooth extracted than stay at home . . .

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012

Rip ’em Off Guys!

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Filed under Building works, Legal and official matters, Maintenance

Now that’s what I call a leaky roof – thankfully, not ours

At the end of March this year we made an application to the local council to have our roof repaired. This might seem an odd thing to have to do, but we live in an area that’s been designated of special environmental interest, and can barely sneeze here without someone official’s say-so.   We’re merely having the leaks fixed – I hope! – and adding some insulation (of which there is absolutely zippo at the moment). The old tiles will be ripped off (fairly gently, we hope) and put back on after the repairs, and it’s unlikely that the roof will look much different from the outside. But still we need permission . . .

Raindrops Keep Falling on My Head

We’d been looking forward to a cooler summer as a result of the insulation, but summer came and went without us being able to have the work done. We’ve now had the first of the autumn storms and discovered that there are even more leaks than before. Ever sat on a loo with rain dripping on your head through the ceiling? Surreal . . .

Most disappointingly, I had to suggest that my dad and uncle forgo their usual week’s holiday here in September, because we had no idea what state the roof – and house – might be in. As it happened, they could have come for their usual week after all, as we’d still not received the permit. Sorry guys.

Men at Work . . . Tomorrow

My heart sank at the weekend, when a friend told me about someone who’d had to wait two years for permission to do some work to their property. I became convinced that our roof repair wouldn’t be done this side of Christmas; then, yesterday, out of the blue, we had the good news that the work had been approved!

We’re told that the builders will arrive to start the job tomorrow morning at 8am. It’ll be dusty, noisy and disruptive and, for those reasons, I’m dreading it. But if it means we’ll stay warm and dry this winter . . . bring it on, hombres!

Jan Edwards Copyright 2012

5 Things to Know When Buying a Rural Property in Mallorca (Part 2)

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Filed under Countryside, Maintenance, Utilities

Rubbish Disposal

When we came to view properties on the island, with a view to finding a rural home to buy, the rather important matter of rubbish disposal didn’t occur to me. Sub-consciously, I must have assumed there’d be something similar to the service we had back in the UK, where, once a week (until it became fortnightly), the refuse disposal operatives – or whatever PC-term had been coined at the time – came to remove the rubbish from the wheelie bin, which we dutifully placed outside our gates on collection day. (It was our job though to retrieve the empty bin, which had a habit of rolling down the hill because somehow it was always left with its wheels perfectly aligned for downward motion).

A smelly car companion

Where we live, we are our own refuse disposal operatives: taking the black bag full of our rubbish to the nearest communal bin (a ten-kilometre drive away) is something we do at least once a week and, if we remember, a little more frequently during the hotter months. Believe me, when the rubbish has had a chance to stew in a black bag, within a black dustbin, in the heat of a Mallorcan summer, it makes a very smelly car companion – even when shut in the boot. Of course, we could reduce the amount of rubbish if we had a compost bin, but The Boss is convinced that it would attract rats. As we have nine outdoor cats, I’m pretty sure that any rat in its right mind would keep well away but, for now, the subject of composting is closed; a pity really, as our soil could sure use a little organic boost.

Recycling facilities are good here on the island, and there are appropriate bins for waste plastics, paper, glass, and even old clothes and shoes, dotted around our nearest town. Again, it’s our responsibility to take our recyclable waste to town, which we do diligently.

Be Bin-Alert

So, if you’re looking to buy or rent a rural property on the island, find out where you’ll have to take your rubbish and recyclable waste – and if there are any restrictions in terms of times during which rubbish cannot be put into the bins.  Local regulations here state that non-recyclable rubbish can only be deposited in the bins in the evenings. This being Mallorca, of course, nobody really seems to take much notice of this.

And if you’re considering a home in a village or town, do make sure that the nearest communal bins are far enough away from the property not to be a nuisance.  Or you’ll be buying a lot of air freshener . . .

Jan Edwards ©2012

 

The destination for our bags of rubbish

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

5 Things to Know When Buying a Rural Property in Mallorca (Part 1)

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If you want to buy – or even rent – a rural property in Mallorca, there are plenty of things you’ll want to find out about before you commit yourself to a decision. And over the course of this week’s three posts, I’ll write about what I consider to be the five must-know things to keep front of mind, while you’re being enchanted by the beauty of the scenery, birdsong and rural charm.

Today’s two things are water-related. In the UK, we took it for granted that water came out of the tap when we turned it on, and we gave little thought to what happened when we flushed the loo or ran the washing machine. Living in the Mallorcan countryside is different.

  • Supply of water

A rural property won’t be connected to a mains supply, so find out where the water comes from. Some properties have their own well, but you’ll need to know that it’s in a good state and where it is. Does it have an electric pump and, if so, how old is it? Having the water tested is recommended if you’re planning to use it in the house, rather than just using it to keep your garden plants perky.

Our well has been out of action for at least a couple of decades and needs more than a good poke about with a long stick to put it back in service. It’s on the list of ‘things to do when all the more important things have been done’.

Water being delivered into our cisterna

If, as with our property, water has to be delivered, you’ll need a cisterna or storage tank, with pipe connections to the house.  If the property you’re viewing has a cisterna, have a look at it and see whether it shows any signs of leakage.  Repairing a leaky cisterna is inconvenient and can be expensive. You’ll need to find out if there’s a way to gauge fairly accurately how much water is in stock, so you know when to order more.

You’ll also want to check out the cost of water delivery by a local service. Ours comes in a tanker that delivers 12,000 litres at a time.

  • Waste water ‘n’ all that

What goes in, must come out . . . somewhere. In a rural property, waste water doesn’t go into a main sewer but into what’s known as a pozo negro (meaning, literally, black well), or septic tank. Find out how old it is, its exact location, and when it was last emptied. Don’t worry, there are companies that offer this as a service. They come along with a tanker and lots of pipes and suck out what’s left after the bacteria within have done their stuff. How often the pozo negro needs emptying depends on several factors, including – obviously – the number of people using loos, baths and showers. Ours is emptied every 18 months or so. And, amazingly, you won’t need a peg for your nose while it’s being done . . .

On Wednesday, I’ll continue the theme of five essential things you need to know when looking to buy or rent a rural property in Mallorca.

Jan Edwards ©2012

Respecting ‘The Beast’

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One of the less appealing aspects of owning our rural finca in the early days was having to live with ‘The Beast’ – an innocuous-looking but extremely important concrete bunker, adjoining the small covered terrace outside our annexe bedroom. I’ll spare you too much detail, just in case you’re reading this over breakfast, but let’s just say that anything that left our property through waste pipes, went into ‘The Beast’ (a pozo negro, or septic tank) – to be subjected to some kind of minor bacterial warfare within. The property is not connected to a main sewer.

Fearing the worst if we did something to upset the delicate balance of bacteria and . . . yet more bacteria . . .  we sought advice. ‘Treat it with respect,’ said the former owners of the property (who, incidentally, have become very dear friends).  ‘And that means no nasty chemicals or non-biodegradable stuff.’

So, not for us, those giant bottles of lurid-coloured cleaning products, filling several aisles of the local supermarket, and much-loved by Spanish housewives. We were going ecological and, although the cost of buying these products can be higher, we discovered that they do last much longer.

Back to basics

Just add elbow grease . . .

Feeling good about saving some money, and helping the environment of ‘The Beast’ (and generally), I also resorted to some old-fashioned remedies: the kind of things my gran would have used. Back in the UK, one of the occasional guests on my BBC radio programme was an expert on food and ‘all things domestic’, and Jill often regaled us with tips for tackling household jobs using store cupboard items.

Now I’d much rather be writing stuff than rubbing sink stains, but I have taken on board some of her suggestions – and saved quite a bit more money on cleaning products. My favourite weapons in the war against grime? Vinegar, bicarb of soda and lemon juice. I’ve been amazed what I can shift using one or more of those!

And, for some time, there were no complaints from ‘The Beast’…

Jan Edwards ©2012

Done and Dusted

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Filed under Maintenance

Want to be happier?  Well, some time ago I read something very interesting – and it’s stuck in my mind: researchers at University College London had found that just 20 minutes of housework a week reduces stress and lifts one’s spirits.

Now, I haven’t seen the research – and I’ve got far too much housework to do to investigate further  – but it made me think.

For a start, it suggests to me that, in general, people are now doing less than 20 minutes of housework a week – otherwise the findings wouldn’t really be relevant to many people. It seems such a small amount of time compared to the hours I spend trying to keep our finca clean and tidy.

It’s not that I’m a domestic goddess, who likes nothing better than buffing her mirrors or sweeping dust bunnies out from under the bed (although I doubt a real domestic goddess would have let things get that bad down there);  it’s simply that living in an old finca in the Mallorcan countryside is rather housework-intensive.

The Demon Dust

Dust is the demon here. In the winter, our woodburning stove is mainly to blame. Just bringing the log basket in usually leaves a trail of shredded bark, insects, moss, etc on the floor and then there’s the carrying out of the ashes every morning. If we’re really lucky when we open the outside door, the wind doesn’t blast the ashes out of the pan and all over the room. We’re not often that lucky.

But in spring and summer, when the stove is cold and doors and windows flung open, there’s another challenge to keeping the place tidy: the detritus blown in by the strong winds that usually whip through our valley. In July and August, when the ground is parched, clouds of dust – as well as the usual dead leaves and bits of twig – often accompany us in from the garden.

Bugged by Bugs

And don’t get me started on the terracotta ceiling tiles that grace many old fincas. Until The Boss got up there with a ladder and pot of filler, the gaps between some of them in our guest bathroom ceiling were so large that all manner of bugs – both dead and alive – regularly fell through from the space between the roof tiles and ceiling, littering the bathroom floor.

Minstral planting his hairs on a rug

Minstral, our beautiful 15-year-old Birman cat, makes his own contribution to my domestic duties, as clouds of fine white hairs waft in his wake. In the UK, his hairs didn’t show on the carpet like they do on tiled floors. And isn’t clearing up furballs fun?

I’ve just realised that I could have mopped the floor and dusted the dining room in the time I’ve taken to write this, but do I care? No. Reducing my housework to just 20 minutes a week is definitely going to lift my spirits.

Jan Edwards ©2012