#Tiling companies uk

[mariopop1]

Commercial Tiling Contractors: Your Key to Quality and Efficiency

In commercial construction and renovation, choosing a tiling contractor can have a significant impact on the success and outcome of the project. Whether you’re renovating a retail store, remodeling a hotel lobby, or building a new office building, it’s important to hire the right tiling contractors to ensure quality work, timely completion and overall project success. Let’s explore the importance of choosing the right commercial tiling contractors and how they can contribute to the success of your commercial business.

Knowledge and experience

Commercial tiling contractors bring a wealth of knowledge and experience to the table. With an in-depth understanding of industry standards, best practices and the latest tiling techniques, these professionals have the knowledge and skills to tackle projects of all sizes and various complexities. So, from materials to choosing the right fit to developing complex systems, experienced commercial tiling professionals ensure the highest quality of workmanship and attention to detail at every stage of your project.

Advanced services

When it comes to commercial tiling projects, attention to detail is paramount. From surface preparation to grouting and sealing, commercial tiling contractors offer complete services to handle every aspect of the tiling process. Whether you are installing ceramic tiles, porcelain tiles, or natural stone tiles, these contractors have the tools, equipment and knowledge to handle your designs and deliver flawless results that exceed your expectations always.

Timely Completion

Time is of the essence in commercial construction and maintenance projects. Delays can lead to lost revenue, lost opportunities and customer disappointment. Professional tiling contractors understand the importance of completing the project on time and work hard to meet project deadlines and deadlines. With efficient project management, flexible procedures and effective communication, these professionals ensure that your tiling project remains smooth and on time from start to finish.Leading and authentic tiling companies UK ensure the timely completion of your project within your budget.

Compliance with Regulations

Commercial construction projects are subject to codes and standards, especially when it comes to safety and compliance. Professional tiling contractors are well versed in industry regulations and ensure that the entire project meets the appropriate regulations and standards. From appropriate substrate design to customized waterproof methods, these professionals prioritize safety, quality and regulation to achieve desirable results.

Conclusion :

In conclusion, choosing the right tiling companies UK is essential to the success of your commercial construction or renovation project. Due to their expertise, experience, comprehensive services, completion time, compliance, and low cost, commercial tiling contractors play a vital role in providing high quality, efficient and unparalleled services. So, whether you are renovating retail stores, renovating the lobby of a hotel or a new office building or partnering with a reputable commercial tiling service ensure that your project is in capable hands from beginning to end.

[elephantbitterhead]

One of my favorite things about working on any DIY project is reading the absolutely deranged statements people try to pass off as design advice. Like this: No matter how much time you plan to spend in your kitchen, you should never lose sight of the fact that it’s a room based around food. One subtle but important fact related to this is that colour schemes based around blue are risky – there are few blue foods in nature, and studies have been shown that this particular colour is an effective appetite suppressant! Combine this with the somewhat sterile appearance of blue colours under many types of lighting, and it’s perhaps best to leave blue as a highlight or contrast shade rather than as the foundation colour.

This kind of 'guidance' -- opinions disguised as objective rules -- makes me want to adopt what it's forbidding, even if I didn't want it before. Can you imagine wanting a blue kitchen & rejecting it on the basis of this borderline haruspicy? As if your design choices are in any way related to the color(s) of food you might prepare. Cruelly consigned to a life of cauliflower, mashed potatoes, and hardboiled eggs by my belligerent white kitchen. I don't see anyone saying that about those pastel-ish reds that are currently so popular -- good luck finding a food that color. Raw red meat, perhaps. What nonsense.

[brickscompanyuk11]

When compared to other options, choosing roof tiles has many advantages. Roof tiles manufacture a range of Concrete Roof Tile and pvc fittings for pitched roofing across the UK

[brickscompanyuk]

When compared to other options, choosing roof tiles has many advantages. Roof Tiles manufacture a range of Concrete Roof Tile and PVC fittings for pitched roofing across the UK

[cathkaesque]

Relentless direct action has secured another victory in the fight against Israel’s arms trade, as Elbit Systems are forced to sell their ‘Elite KL’ factory in Tamworth.

The company had previously manufactured cooling and power management systems for military vehicles, but was sold on after stating that it faced falling profits and increased security costs resulting from Palestine Action’s efforts. 

After the sale was completed last month, Elite KL’s new owners, listed as Griffin Newco Ltd, confirmed in an email to Palestine Action that they will have nothing to do with the previous owners, Elbit, and have discontinued any arms manufacturing:

“Following the recent acquisition of Elite KL Limited by a UK investment syndicate, the newly appointed board has unanimously agreed to withdraw from all future defence contracts and terminate its association with its former parent company”.

This victory is a direct result of sustained direct action which has sought, throughout Palestine Action’s existence, to make it impossible for Elbit to afford to operate in Britain. Before they sold the enterprise to a private equity syndicate, Elbit had reported that Elite KL operating profits had been slashed by over three-quarters, with Palestine Action responsible: Elbit directly cited the increased expenditure on security they’d been forced to make, and higher supply chain costs they faced.

And these actions did, indeed, cost them. The first action at the site, in November 2020, saw Elite KL’s premises smashed into, the building covered in blood-red paint. Between March and July 2021, the site was put out of action three times by roof-top occupations – drenched red in March 2021, with the factory’s camera systems dismantled, before again being occupied in in May. Another roof-top occupation in July, despite increased security, saw the site forced closed – once again painted blood-red, and with its windows and fixings smashed through.

In February 2022, activists decommissioned the site for weeks – closed off after an occupation that saw over £250,000 of damages caused, the roof tiles removed one-by-one. After this, Elbit erected a security perimeter around the site – but to no avail. One month later, six were arrested after Palestine Action returned to Tamworth – again taking the roof and smashing through, preventing the production of parts for Israel’s military machine.

Elite KL is a ‘specialist thermal management business’. Since the sale, the company focuses on cooling systems for buses and trains, but it had, under Elbit, manufactured these systems for military vehicles. Until December of last year, Elite KL’s website was advertising its military and defence products, and it was known to provide parts for Israel’s deadly Merkava tanks, with export license records demonstrating its provision of ‘ML6a’ components for military ground vehicles to Israel. The company was also known to manufacture crew cooling systems, for the military vests of tank operators.

Elbit Systems itself provides 85% of the drones and land-based military equipment for the Israeli military, along with a wide range of the munitions and armaments currently being used against Gaza’s beseiged population. Its CEO, Bazhalel Machlis, has claimed that the Israeli military has offered the company its thanks for their “crucial” services during the ongoing genocide in Gaza

A Palestine Action spokesperson has stated:

“Each activist who occupied and dismantled Tamworth’s Israeli weapons factory did so in order to bring an end to Israel’s weapons trade, and to end the profiteering from Palestinian repression. Every defeat Elbit faces is a victory for the Palestinian people.

Kicking Elbit out of Tamworth shows once again that direct action is a necessary tactic. It is one which must be utilised and amplified in the face of the Gaza genocide.”

[msclaritea]

Five Guys was founded in 1986 by Janie and Jerry Murrell. Jerry and the couple's sons Jim, Matt, Chad, and Ben were the original "Five Guys". The Murrells had a fifth son, Tyler, two years later. Today, all five sons, the current "Five Guys", are involved in the business: Matt and Jim travel the United States visiting stores, Chad oversees training, Ben selects the franchisees, and Tyler runs the bakery.

The first Five Guys was in Arlington's Westmont Shopping Center. Buns were baked in the same center by Brenner's Bakery. This location closed, in favor of another in Alexandria, Virginia, at the intersection of King and North Beauregard Streets, which closed on September 21, 2013.

More followed in Old Town Alexandria and Springfield, Virginia, making five locations open by 2001. Their success encouraged the Murrells to franchise their concept the following year, engaging Fransmart, a franchise sales organization. Former American football player Mark Moseley, who had gone to work for Fransmart after his football career, played a key role in Five Guys' expansion and went on to become the company's director of franchise development after it ended its business relationship with Fransmart. In early 2003, the chain began franchising, opening the doors to rapid expansion which caught the attention of national restaurant trade organizations and the national press. The expansion started in Virginia and Maryland, and by the end of 2004, over 300 units were in development through the Northeast. Over the next few years, the chain rapidly expanded across the entire United States and into Canada, reaching over 1,000 locations by 2012.[needs update][citation needed]

The first location outside North America opened in the United Kingdom in July 2013, in London on Long Acre in Covent Garden. The chain now has more than 150 restaurants in the UK. Five Guys also has locations in the Middle East and has continued to expand in Europe. In late 2017, Five Guys opened its first restaurants in Germany, with a branch in Frankfurt and another in Essen.

Five Guys, one of the top three burgers in the U.S., opened its first Korean store in Gangnam, Seoul, at 11 a.m. on June 26, 2023 with a countdown shout. As of 2024, there are a total of four branches in Seoul.

Five Guys Enterprises has several affiliated companies that are not part of a consolidated group, but are under common ownership. Five Guys Operations was founded in 2012, Five Guys Holdings was founded in 2007. Five Guys Foods UK Limited was incorporated on March 12, 2013. FGE International, FGO International BV, and FG Coöperatief U.A. are based in Amsterdam. FGH International C.V. is located in Bermuda.

Five Guys had a 39,900 square feet (3,710 m2) headquarters in Lorton, Virginia, overlooking the Occoquan and Potomac Rivers, that was specially designed to convey the corporate brand. According to the architect, "The lobby mimics the typical Five Guys restaurant with red and white tile, tall tables, Freestyle Coke machine and signature peanut boxes." In 2023, they moved their headquarters to a new location in Alexandria, Virginia.

On September 24, 2020, the first Five Guys location with a drive-through window opened in Surfside Beach, South Carolina. The franchisee retained it from the former business in the building in light of COVID-19 pandemic safe practices.

In September 2021, Five Guys opened their first location in Australia. The chain also has plans to expand into New Zealand. In November 2022, Five Guys announced the relocation of their headquarters to the Carlyle neighborhood of Alexandria, Virginia.

Five Guys has received numerous awards in D.C. area publications, including "Number 1 Burger" by Washingtonian Magazine for seven years.[citation needed] The former US President Barack Obama is reportedly a fan, buying lunch for himself and his colleagues at the Washington Five Guys branch in 2011.

[citrontartellete]

A small fic

Routine

Aziraphale watches as his boss walks by him in his impeccable gray suit and lavender tie. Gabriel asks him the same things every morning : A piping hot Earl Gray with a dash of milk (which he doesn't drink) two scones with Danish blueberry jam (the bastard only eats half of one) and for him to make a reservation at the same fancy restaurant (Gabriel always gets there late). Aziraphale smiles politely, agrees, and does everything he is told to. 

He wants to scream sometimes. He is tired of the routine he has, although he can't complain, he is handsomely paid, he lives in a flat in Chelsea, he has everything money can buy. He works for the best company in the UK. Aziraphale snorts, while heating his boss' scones, it didn't mean anything, working for Heaven Inc., because he is still stuck as assistant, Gabriel and the other's only gave him praises and a raise. 

They never talked about giving him a promotion, which got on his nerves, because he always did his own job and Gabriel's. He is tired of watching Gabriel take the credit for his ideas. Sometimes, he wants to strangle Gabriel with the stupid lavender tie. If only he could send everything to hell and live his dream. A small tea house with books and plants and cakes…He gets out of his reverie when Gabriel screams his name. 

During the short walk from the kitchen to the office, Aziraphale thinks how boring his workplace is, immaculate white tiles, huge glass walls and windows, everybody always dressed perfectly. So cold. The lemongrass smell made him twitch his nose in disgust. He is tired of this place. 

When his shift is over, he thanks God, gets his things, passes on the Japanese restaurant to get his sushi, and then at the bakery for a piece of angel cake. Every Friday is the same thing. 

He gets home and follows a ritual of getting his shoes off, leaving the paper bags on the counter, undressing and having a long bath. On days like this he dozes off on the bathtub and wakes with a start. 

Before sleeping Aziraphale thanks God again, for having the weekends off, he could sleep in and do whatever he wanted, If Gabriel didn't send him a message asking for documents or files he forgets to download and when it happens Aziraphale always consoles himself by muttering that at least he is in no office. 

Saturday morning what wakes Aziraphale up at eleven o'clock exactly is someone banging on his door, when he opens, he sees a man with fiery red hair, beautiful amber eyes, almost yellow and wearing black clothes. He just stares at the man. The man just stammers and rants and at last asks him for a bit of bread. Aziraphale, still enveloped by his fluffy blankets, gets the man the bread he asks for without saying a single word to him. His name is Crowley, the new neighbour, after he closes the door and goes back to bed and fall asleep again, thinking that a handsome man at his door is a good way to break the routine. 

[yunhsuanhuang]

Blood Of My Blood | Y.H. Huang

All of a sudden you realise that you have been caught up in something ancient and vast and beyond your comprehension: far older than the stones of the house you grew up in or the roads the Romans laid through this land in their frail attempts to tame it.

A girl and a boy set out on a journey across the UK, searching for answers and a place to call home.

Inspired by Sweet William's Ghost (Child 77). A companion piece to Bone Of My Bone, inspired by Fair Margaret (Child 74) but can be read separately. Not very good, but kept up for archiving purposes.

He took her by the lily-white hand And bid him company, He took her by the middle so small Saying, “Follow, follow me.” She lifted her underskirts one by one Just about the knee, She went over the hills on a cold winter’s night In a dead man’s company.

Sweet William's Ghost, Lisa Null

As if the night can’t get any worse, even your Oyster card has turned against you. The screen of the turnstile blinks back accusingly as if it knows you don't belong here. White and red, white and red.  Invalid. Invalid. Invalid.

You glance over to Arthur. He's having the same problem at his own gantry. The businesswoman behind him makes a point of staring at the clock. He gestures to you, and together you slip out of the queue.

You wind through the rush-hour crush until you find a corner where you don't have to scream to be heard. Arthur leans back against the dingy tiles and says, “I thought this would happen.”

You raise an eyebrow. “Tell me in advance the next time we wake up in a freezing alleyway drenched in blood.” You don't mean to snap. You're just stressed out of your mind. Cellphones stolen, the memory of a whole week gone, twenty tube stops away from home. (Not to mention that your breath isn't fogging the air, but you've got bigger problems to deal with right now). Who wouldn't be stressed?

Your older brother, apparently. “I wasn't referring to that. We've watched our share of horror films, and we know ghosts can't easily interact with the real world. Remember when you tried to hail that taxi just now?”

“There could be a million reasons why the taxi driver didn't see us. Besides, this isn't the time to talk about ghosts!” you gesture out at the station, your voice rising. “In case you haven't noticed, we're practically stranded in Whitechapel—”

You notice her scent before her voice: both warm and honey-tinged. “Not a ghost, love.” You spin, coming face-to-face with a young lady—or at least, you assume she is; you can't quite tell. The fine, aristocratic bones of her face and her emerald-green eyes remind you of those ancient oil paintings: the ones that, when you stare at them too long, seem as though they're staring back.

You tug at the worn edges of your coat and take a step back. “Who are you? Why were you listening to us?”

“You could call me anything you’d like, but I’d prefer Charlotte.” She has a pleasantly lilting accent; familiar, though you've no idea where you could have heard it before. “And as for the second question, I could have tasted you from Paris, really. Turned just last week, weren't you?”

When neither of you responds, Charlotte (a name that sits strangely on her—you wouldn't have guessed it at first) puts a gloved hand on yours. It feels like ice. Just the weather, you tell yourself. “Listen, love. Get yourself to Easter Head as soon as possible. That's the most important thing you could possibly do.”

You do a bit of mental geography. “But that's so far away from home,” you say, dumbly. “We can't just run off to the northernmost part of Scotland on a whim. Mum might be worried. Pa won't know where to find us. Why do we even need to go there, anyhow?” Arthur hovers over you, ready to wrench Charlotte's hand away. His face is pale. In a split second, he's turned from jokester into protective older brother. “If what you say is true—”

“You would be surprised how far from home you could get without ever leaving London.” She leans in, her pink lips almost brushing your ear. She lowers her voice to a whisper. "You're lucky to be alive, but the real hunger's still to come. Promise me you'll get yourself to Easter Head, won't you?"

Pressed up against the grimy tile wall, the only thing you can do is nod.

Charlotte pulls back and smiles. It's a sad sort of smile. Her teeth are sharp as knives and spotted with crimson. Before you've the time to be shocked, she's already gone, leaving only a tube ticket in your hand and the tiniest of pulls, low in your stomach.

The still air of the cramped train carriage smells vaguely sweet. Roses? Honeysuckle? You should know this. Once upon a time, you spent every Sunday afternoon squelching about in the vegetable patch, but now all your memories of your past life feel like hand-me-downs.

A stop passes. Then another. It's only at Islington that you realise the scent isn't coming from any kind of flower. A woman presses her cellphone between her ear and shoulder. In the ghostly yellow light, veins pulse beneath the pale curve of her throat. Bruises red as wine peek out the collar of a man's down jacket. A brown-skinned boy who can’t yet be in primary school clutches his father's leg, rainbow scarf hanging loose.

This isn’t supposed to happen yet, is it? This can’t happen to you. Something fierce burns in the pit of your stomach, working its way up to your throat and seizing your breath. In the middle of the divorce, you'd refused to eat for a week in the wild, childish hope that it would convince your father to stay. That week you thought you'd understood what hunger meant. You didn't, you couldn't. Everything pales in comparison to this.

In the back of your head, Charlotte grins and says the real hunger’s still to come.

Arthur looks over at you, eyes wide. He pats your back a few times, except it’s really more of a slap. It doesn't help much. You appreciate the effort, anyhow. “You okay there?”

You bury your face in his coat, and he ruffles your hair with a warm hand. You feel a bit silly, but at this point, you don't really care. “I don’t want to be a monster,” you say. You’re a person, you want to protest, you doodle in history lessons and dance to Adele on the radio when no one’s looking—but you know better than anyone that what you want isn’t necessarily what you get. The girl who did all that’s long gone. You’re not quite sure who’s taken over her body.

“You’ll never be one," he promises. It rings false, though, and he senses it, switching topics with ease. “To your left. Bloke in red. That's my book, isn't it?”

You sit up. Peering out into the dense crowd, you spot a man in a turban and eye-searing maroon trousers, paperback in one hand, and grab rail in another. From this distance, you can only see a sliver of the title, but you already know what it says. Margaret of the Roses, by A.R. Millwood. The man’s eyes are glued onto the page. "It's still such a strange feeling, isn't it?" Arthur whispers. "Maybe I'll spoil the second book for him."

You laugh, tension lifting off of your shoulders. "What, and let a stranger read it before your own sister?"

"I'll show you a chapter when we get back, I promise."

When we get back. It's a comforting thought. After this whole mess is over, you’ll take tea and scones with Mum and Pa and Arthur, laughing and talking about nothing at all. The afternoon sun will stream through the windows. The redness on your lips will just be cranberry jam, ripe and sweet from the bushes in your garden—cranberry jam, that's all there is.

-

There's something scribbled on the wall of the women’s restroom at Victoria Station. For a moment you’re sure you’ve forgotten how to read until you realise it’s written in reverse. You turn to the wall mirror, and there it is. Stark black cursive right where your reflection’s supposed to be.  Eat and thou shalt be filled, it says. Genesis 4:9. 

You're both terribly lapsed Catholics, but when you tell Arthur about this he cocks his head to the side. You try to ignore the curve of his throat. “I really don’t think that’s the original bible verse.” He searches his coat pockets for his phone, then curses under his breath when he remembers that it’s gone.

“There’s a bookshop near the station,” you offer. You'd seen it on the city map while you were looking for the ticket office. “We can go look it up.”

He glances outside at the bustling shops below. A person dressed in black holds on to their hat to stop it from flying away in the wind. “You sure? It’s just graffiti.”

“It seems as though it’s significant, don’t you think? Charlotte said something about hunger. Maybe they’re connected. You never know.”

He agrees, so you head up the worn brick steps into the cold night air. You really wish you had your trusty tube of lip balm, but you've got about ten shillings between you. (Arthur's bank cards don’t work; corpses can’t use credit, it seems.) you’re not sure what you'll have to do to get to Scotland. Will you have to sneak onto trains? Hide in baggage compartments? Hitch rides with strangers? It’s both thrilling and terrifying at once.

String lights hang above you like stars. Every shop window shouts winter sale, 10% off, come buy, come buy. They're all still too expensive for you, but you're not here to shop around. The pavement's packed with travellers, and after you dodge a laughing family walking ever so slowly you realise with a jolt that after you lost last week there are only three days left to Christmas. Thinking of Mum spending the holidays alone makes your heart— or the place where your heart used to be— squeeze a little. Nobody deserves that, despite what you may feel about her. You resolve to get back to Sutton by Monday.

As you enter the bookshop, Arthur's face lights up. You've never been much of a reader, always preferred real-life to made-up stories, but his happiness is infectious. He points you to the clearance bin, where you blow the dust off the first bible you see. Leather bound and decades old, it's heavier than you thought it would be.

When you crack it open (for a split second fire runs up your veins), a piece of paper flutters out. Arthur lunges to catch it and freezes. He blinks a few times, rubbing his eyes. “You bloody genius, it's a train ticket. A first-class cabin on the Caledonian Sleeper. Going to Glasgow!”

“For Christ's sake.” You slam the bible shut and toss it back into the bin. Under your gloves, your palms tingle.

“Christ indeed.” Arthur squints at the ticket. “It’s leaving in five. C’mon!”

You grab his hand and run.

-

Above the patchwork fields of Lancashire, the sky’s vast and edgeless, a far cry from the small pale square you only caught glimpses of between the council blocks. Snow blankets the rolling hills. You’ve never been this far away from London before.

Out here, you can finally catch your (metaphorical) breath, but as you turn over the events of the night in your head you're left with more questions than answers. What are you going to tell Mum? What's waiting for you at Easter Head? How'd they even know you would pick that exact bible out? (Who's they?)

Arthur must notice you're on edge because he sets his newspaper down and ruffles your dark curls. “I’m sure we’ll be fine, baby sis,” he says. “I'll tell you a story. Perhaps it'll calm your nerves.”

“A bedtime story? Arthur, I'm in the sixth form.”

“No one's too ever old for a good story. What do you want to hear?”

You look at him, face half-shadowed in the darkness. Outside the last stars must be fading away. Your stomach growls low and sharp; a beast rattling at the bars of its cage. What do you want? To eat, to go home, to keep your family close to your heart. “Tell me about Margaret.”

It’s an old question. An old ritual. Invented back when you were barely ten and hiding under your blanket as glass shattered downstairs, ages before Arthur set it down on paper for the world to read. But the book that was published isn’t the one you spun amongst yourselves during those endless nights. That tale’s yours, and yours alone.

You already know how it ends, of course. But will it hurt you to live in the story, just a little while more?

Arthur's voice slips into his old, South London-tinged cadence. It reminds you of the way a bard would have spoken, the audience huddling around the campfire and hanging off his every word. “There was once a fine lady named Margaret, and none in the land was braver than she. One summer day in the apple grove, she met a gentleman who she had never seen before. Both Margaret and the stranger were curious about the other. They stopped on their journeys to listen to each other speak, and this is what the stranger asked of her…”

-

Arthur found the Polaroid under a potted plant in a Costa Coffee. (You learnt the hard way that you couldn’t taste coffee anymore, which was honestly the most depressing thing that's happened so far.) The picture was so blurry and dark that you could barely make out the engraved words on the pub sign, fastened onto a soot-stained brick wall.  Keeper & Tiller, c. 1113. The place didn’t seem to be on a single map, so you resorted to wandering aimlessly along the winding backstreets and hoping you would somehow stumble across it sooner or later.

With every step, it becomes more and more clear that you’ve made a terrible mistake. It’s begun to drizzle, and gaps between the cobblestones have filled up into miniature rivers. The stillness is only broken by the whine of a police siren or the sudden slam of a door. Your hunger sits back on its heels, waiting to pounce.

The city seems curiously abandoned for this time of day. No harried businessmen, no drunkards wrapped in blankets. There might as well be no one else in the world except for you and your brother. He hums All I Want For Christmas Is You as he walks, skipping around puddles. Moments like this, you almost forget he’s older.

This is when you notice the scent.

Sickly, cloying sweetness, thick as mist. The beast in your stomach roars, and without thinking, you take off in a run. Arthur shouts, but you don’t listen. Everything else has fallen away. The streets unfold in your mind like a spider’s web, and you know at once where you’re meant to be. There’s nothing you’ve ever been surer of. You turn a corner, slide to a stop. Rainwater splashes up behind you. There it is. Young and scrawny, half-moons under its eyes. Veins thrumming underneath its skin like the roots of an old oak tree.

Its bottle of pop hits the ground, sending shards every-which-way. You close in. Saliva pools in your mouth. Pressed up against the rough brick, the skin at the back of its neck scrapes off. The smallest drop of blood, red as cranberry jam, bubbles up. Its skinny wrist is fragile in your grasp. Once upon a time, you were never this strong, but things have changed, haven’t they?

It swears and aims a few half-hearted kicks at your chest. You barely notice. There's a ringing in your ears you can't escape. The air is filled with rain and honey, rain and honey. The rotting Victorian buildings tower around you and your prey: a ruin, a trap, a circle of cairns. Its neck, too high to reach, pulls and pulses. It’s neither logic nor morals but sheer overwhelming hunger that sinks your nails into its bony shoulder to pull it down to your level, that draws your teeth ever nearer to its skin, that—

(The figure has a familiar face. Perhaps it might even be your own.)

-

You wake to a sky full of stars and lips raw from biting. Midges have settled on your face. Long grass tickles the back of your neck, finds its way up between your toes. When you were young you used to lie in your garden just like this. From that angle you could almost imagine that you had slipped into a world of giant things, a world not meant for you. But this isn’t your garden, is it? You pull yourself upright and find your legs are numb beneath you. There’s dried blood on your sweater, but perhaps that was always there. Around you, there’s no trace of civilisation as far as the eye can see. The wind rushes through the bushes, making them cry out like new widows. For the moment it’s the stormy ocean, dark and wild under a weathered pier. Ready to surge up without warning and eat you whole. Where are you? How'd you get here? Last you remembered, you were passing through Lancashire—

the shops in Westminster—

somewhere once upon a time, in a land far, far, away—

“Breathe easy, baby sis.” Turning, you discover your brother next to you, and you let out a breath you didn't know you were holding. If Arthur's here, nothing can really hurt you, can it? He reaches over, brushing your curls away from your face. Wildflowers have been strung through his hair—bluebells and saxifrage—and leaves spill out of the sleeves of his coat. His fingers are ice-cold. “Are you ready to tell the story yet?”

You want to say I don't know what you mean by that, but the lie gets stuck in your throat. Finally, you cough, “I'm not a good storyteller, not like you are.”

Arthur laughs a little and runs a hand through your hair. “Try your best. The only thing that matters is that it's true.”

Time unspools in your hands like a ribbon. The stars and moors and winds all hold their breath, waiting for your tale.

-

So there I was, privately seething as I wandered through Sutton at half-past-one in the morning. It was far too cold and far too late for any sane person to be out, but I just had to get a breath of fresh air. I was planning to pace up and down the pavement for a bit, gather my thoughts, and then I would go back home to set the story straight with Arthur. I couldn't find it in myself to forgive him just yet, though.

We had been catching up over a cup of tea in the kitchen—he had only just returned from uni for Christmas, and I was pleased as punch to see him again. While I was busy gloating about how I'd once bought a week's worth of groceries with five pounds, he had interrupted to suggest that I move in with him until I turned eighteen. I was meant for bigger things, he had told me, not for cleaning up mum's sick and working dead-end jobs to pay for her vodka.

At first, I couldn't believe my ears. My brother's always been collected, mind you, but he was never cruel. Not like this, anyhow. Of course, I had protested and made it clear that I wouldn't abandon Mum, not for anything. Family was forever, after all, and it wasn't as if I had much to look forward to when I left school. We couldn't all be geniuses. He still didn't understand, and that was when I lost my temper.

'I want to keep this family together,' I said, very slowly, 'but it seems I'm the only one here who cares about that.'

Arthur looked as if he'd been slapped. I fled the house.  

I was angry, and I was cold, and I hadn't eaten a decent meal for the better part of a month. The dole really doesn't pay for much, you know. Naturally, the girl carrying the crate of fruit caught my eye. She was tucked away in a sleepy side street, far from where the crowds were, but I didn't much care. I went to her anyhow. Something in that crate called to me, the way a story pulls you in and doesn’t let you go until it’s done.

The girl was tall and elfin, skin pale as the moon. I wondered how she'd come by such fresh fruit in the dead of winter. She only smiled—no, smirked, her teeth all gleaming white— and offered me a crabapple. I raised an eyebrow. The fruit seemed perfect, gold and glistening in the dimness. Too good to be true. ‘It's laced with cyanide, isn't it?'

She tossed the crabapple up and caught it. ‘If I was going to kill you, you would have a knife in your stomach by now.’

We both laughed. ‘You're a sceptic.' The girl leaned forward, strands of hair obscuring her face. She couldn't have been much older than I was. ‘I appreciate that. What's your name, poisoner?’

I'd never been one for romance novels, but at that moment I could have sworn there was a flutter in my chest, just like the old cliché. ‘I'm Charlotte.’

‘Charlotte,’ she repeated. When she said my name it felt as though the word was invented ju st for her to speak. ‘What brings you here tonight?’

‘Just wanted to get away from home for a while. Brother's being a right tosser, he is.’

The girl frowned. ‘I don't really understand. What brought you here? To this alleyway, to my fruits.’

All of a sudden my throat had turned dry. The flutter in my heart was morphing into something stranger. Even the air was sluggish and slow, like the air in a dream. ‘Hunger,’ I said, and I knew it was true.

I hadn't even noticed that I'd offered her my hand until I found myself holding the crabapple. It was heavier than I'd expected it to be. I wrapped my fingers around its glossy skin, bringing it up to the sliver of light that spilled towards us from the faraway main road.

The girl covered my hand with her own. It felt as though I had plunged my arm into ice, numb and cold, as she raised the crabapple all the way to my lips. I had had crabapples before, and I wasn't sure how in the world I could have misremembered their scent—rich and sweet as honeysuckle.

‘Eat and thou shalt be filled.’ I could see my reflection in her emerald eyes. ‘Eat, Charlotte.’

I tilted my head up and ate.

-

“That’s it,” you say.

Your brother only shakes his head. Through him, you can see stars dotted across the Scottish night sky, stars you could never have seen back in Sutton. You pull out some blades of grass and watch them scatter in the chilly breeze. The lines on your palms are stained with red.

But they’re not yours anymore, are they?

All of a sudden, you realise that you have been caught up in something ancient and vast and beyond your comprehension, far older than the stones of the house you grew up in or the roads the Romans laid through this land in their frail attempts to tame it. The story has been out of your control for a very long time. “You already know how it goes," you say. "Why hear it again?”

Arthur smiles. Pa always said that he had the smile of a hero, someone who would be immortalised in marble someday. Perfect, glimmering, spotted with blood. “To bring it back to life.”

-

I knew, then, that I had to go to Whitechapel. At the time I wasn’t sure why, except there was a tug low in my stomach that was pulling me there, past the traffic and the people down into the very heart of London. The thing about London is that it’s a city ruled by the dead. Every other pathway crosses over someone’s grave. Countless bodies lie in the night-black water of the Thames, threatening to rise to the surface. Even the sturdy walls of the old manor homes were built upon the bones of the coolies and slaves that gave this nation its great wealth.

Which is a long-winded way to say that the London I passed through after I’d been turned wasn’t the London that I’d always known. The electric lamps flickered and cast green light. Shadows pooled in street corners, vanishing when I got too close. The crowds seemed to be a mass of bones and flesh, a many-headed thing. I paid no attention to most of these, walking through the city in something close to a stupor. I couldn’t have told you my name, or the date, or much of anything.

When I finally arrived in Whitechapel, I found myself staring up at the sticker-covered glass of a curry house. Inside, groups gathered around still-steaming bowls, laughing and chattering away as if they’d nothing to worry about in the whole world. Next to the window, a family of four was devouring oversized portions of chicken tikka masala. The younger son, who couldn’t have been more than eight, was gesturing wildly as he spoke, his mouth still full of food. He must have choked on something halfway through because he stopped and began to splutter. His grinning older sister hit him on the back far more violently than she should have.

I kept standing there after they left, watching the neon sign turn from blue to green to blue again, long after the lights went off. The whole time no one had noticed me. I might have waited there until I froze if it wasn’t for the shout.

When I turned, I didn’t have a moment to react before the stranger tackled me. It might have been that I was weak, or he was strong, but either way I stumbled, nearly falling to my knees. The stranger pulled back, and for the first time, I recognised his face.

“I was so worried.” Lately, even his accent had lost its familiar storytelling tone. “Where in the world have you been?”

“I’m not home,” I replied. It was the only thing I knew to be true. I felt very young and very small. “Want to go home.”

He muttered something about going back to Sutton, but I didn’t want Sutton. Where would I be returning to? A small and dreary house on a street surrounded by other small and dreary houses. A little-used kitchen, filled with rubbish, stinking of vodka. A mum who wasn’t who she used to be, and a father who’d never come home. A garden that had been killed by the cold. My brother wasn’t looking at me, but ahead at what must have been the comforting mundanity of colourful shop windows. He couldn’t have seen what I had: blood thrumming through warm bodies, trickling through the dirt underneath our feet, setting every cell in my body alight.

Once upon a time, the two of us had huddled so tightly together under a ragged quilt that we seemed to merge into one. Our arms had been intertwined, my head pressed against his shoulder. In the orange glow of the flashlight, you couldn’t have told the two of us apart. We had been the sole inhabitants of a secret universe- at least until the sun began to rise. Now there was a chasm between us, widening moment by moment. He was a genius, I was not. He went away, I stayed behind. He was alive, and I was dead.

I tugged him closer to me, the fog of honey so dense you could slice it. For a brief and terrible moment, my brother smiled. Pa was wrong this whole time, you see. It wasn't a hero's smile. It was just my brother's, and that was all I needed.

I smiled back, and my teeth sank into his skin. He tasted of cranberry jam.

There's nothing more to tell.

-

You killed him. You killed him—you, you, you, all along only always you alone—god, you’re a monster. You never wanted to be like your mother, destroying her family for her desires, but here you are anyway. You know better than anyone that what you want isn't necessarily what you get. It’s so ironic you could scream.

It's then that the verse comes back to you, pulled out from under layers of dust and years. Genesis 4:9. Where is your brother Abel?

You crumple. The long grass comes up to meet you, but it's softer than you'd expect, softer than what you deserve— Don't say that, love. You deserve softness. You're not a monster, understand? the skylarks sing. This time it doesn't ring false.

You loved him. He's always been part of you, just as you've always been part of him. You were born with the same blood, after all.

“Will I ever go home again?” you ask them, but you already know the answer. The Earth only sings it back to you, in your voice, Arthur's voice, and a thousand others besides. Your home's nestled between your ribs and written in the stars. No matter where you wander, there will always be someone to guide your path.

You realise, then, that the howling in your stomach has stopped. You doubt it'll ever start again.

Stumbling to your feet, the Highlands spread out in your mind like a spider's web. The pathway in front of you is as endless as the midnight sky. Smoke drifts up towards the sky from a village that's still nothing but pinpricks of light.

The wind ruffles your hair as you begin to walk. You don't look back.

[mariopop1]

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Different Types of Waste A Muck Away Lorry Can Take

A muck away lorry helps remove waste from a location. It can accept different types of materials. Some of the most popular ones are wood, plastic, metal, etc. Grab lorry options are available at different prices. This depends on your requirements. If you want to remove concrete, the price may be more than removing paper or cardboard. These grab lorries come with various features that make it easier to load waste in less time. Let’s discuss more about it. Hiring a muck away lorry If you hire a grab lorry, you can easily clean waste. Muck away lorries are a preferred choice because of their size. They are suitable for different tasks. If you are working on a construction project, you will generate a lot of waste. In this situation, it will be the perfect choice for large quantities of waste. So you can get the work done in less time and with fewer resources. The prices are also cost-effective when you hire a muck away lorry. You can get it according to your requirements from experienced companies. This option is always better than purchasing a grab lorry. Different types of waste it can take: Construction waste Grab lorries can easily collect construction waste. It accepts concrete, cement blocks, paving slabs, debris, etc. Grab lorry can safely transport the trash to the designated spot. When the materials are segregated efficiently, the waste can be disposed of seamlessly. General waste When working on your construction project, you may collect waste from digging. Grab Lorries or skip hire will offer a convenient experience in this situation. You can get grab trucks to clean your construction site and remove all general waste. General waste can be branches, flower clipping, topsoil, etc. However, the waste may get contaminated by chemical spills. So, you should identify if the waste is hazardous to the environment before disposing of it. Other types of materials Apart from the usual waste on construction sites, you can also send away wood cuttings, plastic, glass, tile, metal, etc., with muck away Lorries. To understand the specific types of waste a company accepts, you should discuss it with them thoroughly. The professionals will provide you with complete details. About Earthworks UK Ltd.: Earthworks UK Ltd. is one of the most reputable muck away companies that offer grab or skip hire solutions. These lorries are perfect for different types of projects. To handle the materials on your site effectively, contact the experts from this company. These experts can make the work easier for you. To get more details, visit https://www.earthworksuk.co.uk/ Original Source: https://bit.ly/4dXRqLW

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Cost-Effective Cleaning Solutions: Wholesale Scrubber Trucks

Cost-Effective Cleaning Solutions: Wholesale Scrubber Trucks

In today’s competitive business environment, cost efficiency is a critical factor for success. Companies are constantly seeking ways to reduce expenses while maintaining high standards of operation. One area where significant savings can be achieved is in cleaning and maintenance. Wholesale scrubber trucks have emerged as a cost-effective solution for large-scale cleaning tasks, offering numerous benefits that go beyond just cleanliness. This article explores how wholesale scrubber trucks provide cost-effective cleaning solutions for various industries.

Efficiency and Productivity

Wholesale scrubber trucks are designed to handle extensive cleaning tasks quickly and efficiently. These machines can cover large areas in a fraction of the time it would take using traditional cleaning methods. Their powerful scrubbing mechanisms ensure that even the toughest stains and dirt are removed, leaving surfaces spotless. This increased efficiency translates to higher productivity, allowing businesses to allocate their resources more effectively. By reducing the time and labor required for cleaning, companies can focus on their core operations and improve overall performance. forklifts aluminum alloy lifting platform | China Trade price on Manufacturer Wholesale aluminum alloy lifting platform Materials Handling sale Buy Online Industrial Equipment USA/UK/India/Australia/CANADA | ForkLift Labor Cost Savings

One of the most significant advantages of using wholesale scrubber trucks is the reduction in labor costs. Traditional cleaning methods often require a large workforce to achieve the desired level of cleanliness. In contrast, scrubber trucks can be operated by a single person, significantly reducing the need for manual labor. This not only lowers labor costs but also minimizes the risk of workplace injuries associated with manual cleaning tasks. Additionally, the ease of operation of these machines means that businesses can save on training costs, as employees can quickly learn to use them effectively.

Durability and Longevity

Wholesale scrubber trucks are built to last, with durable components that can withstand the rigors of daily use. This longevity means that businesses can enjoy the benefits of these machines for many years, reducing the need for frequent replacements. The initial investment in a scrubber truck may be substantial, but the long-term savings on maintenance and replacement costs make it a cost-effective choice. Furthermore, many scrubber trucks come with warranties and service agreements, providing additional peace of mind and ensuring that the machines remain in optimal condition.

Efficient Use of Cleaning Supplies

Scrubber trucks are designed to use water and cleaning solutions more efficiently than traditional methods. These machines often come equipped with water recycling systems that minimize water usage, reducing both the environmental impact and the cost of water consumption. Additionally, the precise application of cleaning solutions ensures that only the necessary amount is used, reducing waste and lowering the cost of cleaning supplies. This efficient use of resources contributes to the overall cost-effectiveness of scrubber trucks.

Versatility and Adaptability

Wholesale scrubber trucks are versatile machines that can be used in a wide range of settings, from industrial warehouses and manufacturing plants to airports and shopping malls. Their adaptability makes them suitable for various surfaces, including concrete, tile, and asphalt. Many scrubber trucks come with interchangeable attachments, allowing them to tackle different cleaning tasks with ease. This versatility means that businesses can rely on a single machine for multiple cleaning needs, further enhancing cost savings.

Environmental Benefits

In addition to cost savings, wholesale scrubber trucks offer environmental benefits that can contribute to a company’s sustainability goals. The efficient use of water and cleaning solutions reduces the environmental impact of cleaning operations. Low-emission engines and eco-friendly features further minimize the carbon footprint of these machines. By investing in scrubber trucks, businesses can demonstrate their commitment to environmental responsibility while enjoying the financial benefits of cost-effective cleaning solutions.

Conclusion

Wholesale scrubber trucks represent a cost-effective cleaning solution for businesses across various industries. Their efficiency, durability, and versatility make them an excellent investment for companies looking to reduce expenses while maintaining high standards of cleanliness. As technology continues to advance, we can expect even more innovative features to be integrated into these machines, further enhancing their cost-effectiveness. For businesses seeking to optimize their cleaning operations, wholesale scrubber trucks offer a practical and economical solution.

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Traditional Kitchen Renovation in Hammersmith

Renovating a kitchen is more than just upgrading to the latest appliances or choosing new countertops; it’s about creating a space that reflects your lifestyle, tastes, and enhancing character of your home. Kitchen Installation Hammersmith is a well-known for its rich history and charming architecture, many homeowners are choosting traditional kitchen renovations that reflect the past whist embracing modern functionality. This tricky balance between the old-world and contemporary convenience is where the expertise of a professional kitchen renovation team becomes invaluable.

The Essence of a Traditional Kitchen A traditional kitchen is characterised by classic design elements such as elaborate cabinetry, warm wood tones, detailed moldings, and timeless materials like granite or marble. These type of kitchens often showcase shaker-style cabinets which can also include farmhouse sinks and vintage-inspired fixtures that can give you a sense of nostalgia and comfort. However, to achieve this look whilst ensuring the kitchen meets today’s standards for efficiency and convenience requires careful planning and a skilled approach.

The Importance of Professional Craftsmanship When you take on a traditional kitchen renovation in Hammersmith, the role of professional kitchen fitters cannot be overstated. Experienced fitters, like GotBath UK, bring a deep understanding of both the technical and aesthetic aspects of kitchen renovation. They are well-versed at blending the traditional elements with modern requirements, thus; ensuring that the kitchen is not only beautiful but also practical for everyday use.

GotBath UK are a recommended Bathroom and Kitchen fitting company that have been helping homeowners transform the looks of their homes for over 10 years. Their 5-star reviews on Google are a testament of their hard work in building the perfect Kitchen for their customers. Visit their website www.gotbath.co.uk for more information about their services.

The Renovation Process The process of renovating their traditional kitchen begins with a detailed consultation with the homeowner to get an understanding of their vision. Having this initial consultation is important, as it sets the tone for the entire project. Whether you’re a traditionalist and are looking to recreate the glamour of a Victorian kitchen or blend elements from different historical periods, the design phase consultation is where these ideas are brought to life.

Once the design is finalised, the process of renovation can begin. This typically involves:

Demolition and Preparation: Removing old fixtures, cabinets, and flooring to make way for the new design. This step can often reveal the need for additional structural work, especially in older homes where walls and floors may have settled over time.

Plumbing and Electrical Work: Upgrading the kitchen’s plumbing and electrics is essential, even in a traditional renovation. Modern kitchens often require advanced plumbing and electrical systems to accommodate new appliances and lighting fixtures.

Cabinetry and Woodwork: The cabinets are usually a focal point of a traditional kitchen, and expert craftsmanship is therefore essential. Custom-built cabinets, often hand-finished, are installed with precision. Attention to detail needs to be given, especially in the woodwork, such as crown mouldings and panelling; this is what gives a traditional kitchen its distinct character.

Flooring and Tiling: Picking the right flooring and tiles is critical for maintaining the traditional aesthetic. Options like stone, ceramic tiles or hardwood in classic patterns can enhance the overall look and feel of the kitchen.

Finishing Touches: This involves adding the finishing touches that complete the traditional look. This might include installing a vintage-style lighting fixtures, farmhouse sink, or even a custom-built kitchen island that serves as the focal point of the room.

Why Choose GotBath UK for Your Kitchen Renovation Choosing the right kitchen fitters for your traditional kitchen renovation in Hammersmith can make all the difference. GotBath UK stands out among kitchen fitters Surrey for their commitment to quality and customer satisfaction. GotBath UK have over a decade of experience to fall back on when it comes to in bathroom and kitchen installations. They have mastered their skills to deliver exceptional results that align with the client’s vision and the unique character of their home.

GotBath UK not only work in Hammersmith, but right across Surrey and beyond, making them a trusted name for homeowners looking to undertake significant renovations. Their ability to blend together traditional design elements with modern functionality sets them apart in the industry.

To summarise, a traditional kitchen renovation in Hammersmith is an investment in your home’s future, combining the best of the past with the conveniences of today. By partnering with experienced professionals like GotBath UK, you can rest assure that you are in safe hands, after all your kitchen is a space where you want to enjoy for many years to come. For more information or to book a consultation, visit www.gotbath.co.uk.

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Asbestos in Construction

Asbestos and the Construction Industry in the UK

Historical Use of Asbestos in UK Construction

Asbestos was widely used in the UK construction industry from the 1950s to the late 1970s, prized for its fire-resistant properties, durability, and insulating capabilities. It found applications in various building materials, including roofing sheets, pipe insulation, floor tiles, and spray coatings for fire protection. The mineral's versatility made it a popular choice for both residential and commercial construction projects. Notable buildings such as schools, hospitals, and government offices incorporated asbestos-containing materials extensively. The peak of asbestos use coincided with the post-war building boom, where its properties aligned perfectly with the rapid construction needs of the time. However, as health concerns began to emerge in the 1970s, its use gradually declined. The UK banned the use of blue and brown asbestos in 1985, with white asbestos finally prohibited in 1999. This historical usage has left a legacy of asbestos-containing materials in many buildings constructed or refurbished before 2000, presenting ongoing challenges for the modern construction industry in terms of identification, management, and safe removal.

Health Risks for UK Construction Workers

UK construction workers face significant health risks from asbestos exposure, particularly those involved in renovation, demolition, or maintenance of older buildings. The Health and Safety Executive (HSE) reports that asbestos-related diseases claim approximately 5,000 lives annually in the UK, with a significant portion attributed to the construction sector. The primary health risks include mesothelioma, a cancer affecting the lining of the lungs or abdomen; asbestosis, a chronic lung condition; and lung cancer. These diseases typically have a long latency period, often manifesting 20-50 years after exposure. According to HSE statistics, there were 2,369 mesothelioma deaths in 2019, with many cases linked to historical occupational exposure in construction. Asbestos-related lung cancer is estimated to cause a similar number of deaths. The risk is particularly high for trades such as carpenters, electricians, and plumbers who may inadvertently disturb asbestos-containing materials. Despite improved regulations and awareness, the legacy of past asbestos use continues to pose a threat, with the HSE projecting that asbestos-related deaths will continue at a similar level for the rest of the decade before starting to decline.

The Control of Asbestos Regulations 2012

The Control of Asbestos Regulations 2012 significantly impacted the UK construction industry, setting stringent standards for asbestos management. These regulations, which came into force on 6 April 2012, consolidated and updated previous asbestos legislation. Key provisions include the requirement for non-licensed work to be notified to the relevant enforcing authority, keeping a record of the work done, and ensuring medical examinations for workers. The regulations place a duty on those responsible for maintenance of non-domestic premises to identify and manage asbestos-containing materials. This includes conducting asbestos surveys, maintaining an asbestos register, and implementing an asbestos management plan. For construction work, the regulations mandate that companies must determine if asbestos is present before commencing any project. If found, only licensed contractors can remove high-risk asbestos-containing materials. The regulations also emphasize the importance of training, requiring that anyone liable to disturb asbestos during their work receives the appropriate level of information, instruction, and training. These regulations have led to increased awareness and improved safety practices in the construction industry, although compliance remains an ongoing challenge, particularly for smaller firms.

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