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parquethofffloor · 11 months

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Make A Lasting Impression With Wood Flooring in Edinburgh: How To Choose, Install, And Maintain Your Perfect Floor

Welcome to the vibrant city of Edinburgh, where wood flooring is making a stylish and lasting impression in homes and businesses alike. In this article, "Make a Lasting Impression with Wood Flooring Edinburgh: How to Choose, Install, and Maintain Your Perfect Floor," we will explore the ins and outs of selecting, installing, and caring for wood floors that will elevate the aesthetic of any space.

Benefits of Wood Flooring

Wood flooring offers numerous benefits that make it a popular choice for homeowners and businesses in Edinburgh. Firstly, wood floors add warmth and character to any room. The natural beauty of wood, with its unique grain patterns and rich colors, creates an inviting and timeless atmosphere. Whether you prefer the rustic charm of reclaimed timber or the sleek elegance of modern designs, wood flooring provides a versatile option to suit every style preference.

Secondly, wood flooring is durable and long-lasting. When properly maintained, it can withstand heavy foot traffic and resist stains, scratches, and wear. Unlike carpeting, which can trap allergens and require frequent cleaning, wood floors are hypoallergenic and easy to clean, making them a hygienic choice for those with allergies or respiratory sensitivities.

Lastly, wood flooring is an environmentally friendly option. Many wood floors are sourced from sustainable forests, and the production process requires less energy compared to other types of flooring. Additionally, wood floors can be refinished multiple times, extending their lifespan and reducing the need for replacement.

Types of Wood Flooring Options

When it comes to wood flooring, there are two main types to consider: hardwood and engineered. Hardwood flooring is made from solid wood planks, while engineered flooring consists of a thin layer of real wood veneer on top of a plywood or high-density fiberboard (HDF) core. Both options have their advantages, and the choice depends on factors such as budget, location, and personal preference.

Hardwood flooring offers unmatched beauty and durability. It can be sanded and refinished multiple times, allowing you to change the stain or finish to match your evolving style. Oak and walnut are popular hardwood choices due to their natural strength and attractive grain patterns. However, hardwood flooring can be more expensive and susceptible to moisture damage, making it less suitable for areas prone to humidity or moisture, such as basements or bathrooms.

Engineered wood flooring, on the other hand, provides greater stability and moisture resistance. The multiple layers in its construction help to minimize expansion and contraction caused by changes in temperature and humidity. This makes engineered wood flooring a suitable option for areas with fluctuating moisture levels, such as kitchens or bathrooms. Additionally, engineered wood flooring can be installed as a floating floor, making it a versatile choice for both new construction and remodeling projects.

Choosing the Right Wood Flooring for Your Space

When selecting wood flooring for your space, there are several factors to consider. Firstly, consider the style and aesthetics you want to achieve. Do you prefer a traditional or contemporary look? Are you aiming for a light and airy space or a cozy and intimate atmosphere? The color, grain pattern, and finish of the wood flooring can greatly contribute to the overall ambiance of the room.

Additionally, consider the durability and maintenance requirements of different wood species. Some woods, like oak and maple, are known for their hardness and ability to withstand heavy foot traffic, while others, like pine, may be more prone to scratches and dents. Think about the level of maintenance you are willing to commit to, as some wood species may require more frequent refinishing or special care.

Lastly, consider your budget and the overall investment you are willing to make. Hardwood flooring tends to be more expensive than engineered wood, so it's important to weigh the cost against the desired aesthetic and durability.

Factors to Consider When Installing Wood Flooring

Installing wood flooring requires careful planning and preparation to ensure a flawless finish. Before starting the installation process, there are several factors to consider. Firstly, assess the condition of the subfloor. It should be clean, dry, and level to provide a stable foundation for the wood flooring. Any imperfections or unevenness in the subfloor should be addressed before installation.

Next, consider the direction of the wood planks. Wood flooring can be installed parallel or perpendicular to the longest wall in the room, depending on the desired visual effect. In general, installing the planks perpendicular to the joists provides greater stability and prevents sagging or flexing.

Additionally, consider the installation method. Wood flooring can be installed using either a nail-down, glue-down, or floating method. Each method has its advantages and considerations, such as the type of subfloor, the level of stability desired, and the ease of installation. Consulting with a professional or researching the specific requirements of your chosen wood flooring can help you determine the best installation method for your space.

Steps to Install Wood Flooring

Installing wood flooring is a step-by-step process that requires precision and attention to detail. Here is a general guide to help you navigate the installation process:

Prepare the subfloor: Ensure that the subfloor is clean, dry, and level. Remove any existing flooring and repair any imperfections or unevenness.

Acclimate the wood: Allow the wood planks to acclimate to the room's temperature and humidity for at least 48 hours. This helps prevent expansion or contraction after installation.

Lay the underlayment: Install an underlayment to provide moisture protection, sound insulation, and a smooth surface for the wood flooring.

Start the installation: Begin installing the wood planks along the longest wall, using the chosen installation method. Follow the manufacturer's instructions and ensure a tight fit between the planks.

Continue the installation: Work your way across the room, staggering the end joints for a more natural and visually appealing look. Use a tapping block and mallet to ensure the planks are securely locked together.

Cut and trim: Measure and cut the planks to fit around obstacles such as doorways or vents. Use a saw or a specialized cutting tool for accuracy.

Complete the installation: Finish the installation by installing baseboards or trim to cover the expansion gap and provide a polished look.

Clean and inspect: Once the installation is complete, clean the wood flooring and inspect for any gaps or imperfections. Make any necessary adjustments or repairs before proceeding to the next step.

Apply the finish: Depending on the type of wood flooring chosen, apply the appropriate finish to protect the wood and enhance its natural beauty. Follow the manufacturer's instructions for application and drying times.

Maintaining and Caring for Your Wood Flooring

To keep your wood flooring looking as stunning as the day it was installed, regular maintenance is essential. Here are some tips to help you care for your wood floors:

Sweep or vacuum regularly: Remove dirt, dust, and debris using a soft-bristle broom or a vacuum with a hardwood floor attachment. This prevents scratches and maintains the floor's appearance.

Wipe up spills immediately: Wood flooring is susceptible to water damage, so it's important to clean up any spills promptly using a damp cloth. Avoid using excessive water or harsh cleaning products, as they can damage the finish.

Use mats and rugs: Place mats or rugs in high-traffic areas and near entryways to prevent dirt and grit from being tracked onto the wood floor. Ensure that the mats have a non-slip backing to prevent accidents.

Avoid high heels and sharp objects: High heels and sharp objects can dent or scratch the wood surface. Encourage guests to remove their shoes or provide protective pads for furniture legs to prevent damage.

Regularly trim pets' nails: Pets' nails can cause scratches on the wood floor, so it's important to keep their nails trimmed to minimize the risk of damage.

Avoid direct sunlight: Prolonged exposure to direct sunlight can cause the wood to fade or discolor. Use curtains or blinds to block out the sun's rays or consider applying UV-protective coatings.

Regularly inspect and maintain: Periodically inspect the wood flooring for any signs of damage or wear. Make any necessary repairs, such as filling in scratches or reapplying finish, to maintain the floor's integrity.

Common Problems with Wood Flooring and How to Troubleshoot Them

Despite proper maintenance, wood flooring may encounter some common problems. Here are a few issues you may come across and how to troubleshoot them:

Scratches and dents: Minor scratches can often be buffed out using a fine steel wool pad or by applying a touch-up product that matches the floor's finish. For deeper scratches or dents, consult a professional for repair or refinishing.

Warping or cupping: Warping or cupping may occur due to moisture or humidity issues. Ensure that the room is properly ventilated and maintain a consistent humidity level. If the problem persists, consult a professional for assessment and repair.

Gaps or squeaks: Gaps or squeaks may develop over time due to natural expansion and contraction of the wood. Fill small gaps with wood filler or consider using a humidifier or dehumidifier to regulate the moisture level. For persistent squeaks, consult a professional for proper repair.

Stains or discoloration: Stains or discoloration can be caused by spills, pet accidents, or chemical reactions. Depending on the severity and type of stain, various cleaning methods or professional refinishing may be required.

Hiring a Professional for Wood Flooring Installation and Maintenance

While DIY installation and maintenance are possible, hiring a professional can ensure a seamless and professional result. An experienced wood flooring contractor can provide expert guidance on choosing the right type of wood flooring, handle the installation process efficiently, and offer valuable maintenance tips to prolong the lifespan of your floor.

When selecting a professional, consider their experience, reputation, and certifications. Request references, view their portfolio, and obtain multiple quotes to compare pricing and services. By entrusting your wood flooring project to a skilled professional, you can enjoy peace of mind knowing that your investment will yield beautiful and long-lasting results.

#Wood Flooring Edinburgh

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michaelusmane · 1 year

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Stain Wars: Battle-Tested Techniques for Ultimate Victory

Stains are like the stubborn graffiti artists of the textile world, leaving their indelible marks on your favorite couch, that pristine white shirt, or the once-spotless carpet. But fear not, fellow stain-fighters, for in this epic battle, you can emerge victorious with the right arsenal at your disposal!

Blot, Don't Rub: The cardinal rule of stain combat. Grab a clean cloth, blot the stain gently. Rubbing only pushes the stain deeper into the fabric's soul.

Cold vs. Hot: Know your enemy! Use cold water for bloodthirsty foes like red wine, but turn up the heat (with caution) for oily adversaries like grease.

Lemon Justice: For that zesty touch. Lemon juice works wonders on fruit and wine stains, dissolving them like magic. Just don't forget the sunscreen!

Baking Soda Sorcery: Mix it with water to form a paste. Apply it like a mystic sigil, let it sit, and watch it battle red sauce like a seasoned gladiator.

Trust the Pros: Sometimes, stains are more formidable than we can handle alone. That's when professional cleaners swoop in like the Avengers. Emop, for instance, offers expert cleaning services with cashback up to £150! Check them out for end-of-tenancy cleaning in Edinburgh and let the stain-slaying heroes save the day.

So, fellow stain warriors, armed with these techniques and a little professional help, you can conquer the most resilient of stains and reclaim your fabrics from the clutches of chaos!

#emop

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glasgowdiscountcarpetcleaning1 · 2 years

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Your number 1 Choice For Carpet Cleaning in Edinburgh and Glasgow

#cleaning services

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rainycoffeeprincess-blog1 · 3 years

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Patersons Pro Cleaning Edinburgh

Patersons Pro Cleaning - Edinburgh is a local family run business offering the Best Carpet Cleaning, Upholstery & Sofa Cleaning throughout Edinburgh.A Professional Carpet Cleaner requires a lot of skill and dedicaRon. We have completed numerous courses to achieve this following industry standards which means you can be rest assured that when we complete a job it’s to the very highest standardsAs well as DomesRc Carpet Cleaning we also offer Commercial Carpet Cleaning including Cleaning Carpets in Offices, Pubs, Restaurants, schools to name a few.

Phone: 0131 210 0006

business email: [email protected]

Website: https://patersonsprocleaning.co.uk/

#Carpet Cleaning Edinburgh

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richardclark1302 · 4 years

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Upholstery Cleaner Edinburgh

With professional cleaning and upkeep, your carpets can last a decade. Got food stains or dirt on your carpets? We can restore your carpet to its former glory with industry-leading cleaning techniques that ensure excellent results and maximum fibre protection. Call us today to schedule an appointment.

Visit: https://clarkscarpetcare.co.uk

#carpet cleaning edinburgh #carpet cleaners edinburgh #carpet cleaners #upholstery cleaner edinburgh #carpet cleaners near me

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anylevelwindowcleaning1 · 9 months

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Carpet Care 101: Tips for Keeping Office Carpets Clean in Edinburgh

Maintaining clean office carpets in Edinburgh is a multifaceted task that goes beyond surface-level cleaning. Regular vacuuming, stain removal, professional services, advanced cleaning technology, and preventive measures collectively contribute to the longevity and appearance of office carpets. Our professional carpet cleaners are right here for businesses seeking impeccable office carpets in Edinburgh. Trust us to deliver a level of cleanliness that not only meets but exceeds your expectations, creating a workspace that reflects the professionalism and efficiency of your business.

#clean office carpets in Edinburgh

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kurt49xy-blog · 6 years

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http://www.candwcleaningservices.co.uk/ - C & W Cleaning Services are a family run business offering rug and carpet cleaning Edinburgh. Members of NCCA since 1985, the company have a long running reputation for a fantastic service that will leave your home or business spotless.

#carpet cleaning Edinburgh

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spnae · 2 years

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Chapter 17 Underground

***** ****** *****

Buffy had to admit it, the girls could really get a job done fast when they put their minds to it. Right now they weren’t in the mood. The girls stood around Buffy and Spike looking moody and disheveled. It was barely sunrise. The duplex was now completely cleaned out and looked much better than it did when Buffy and Giles had originally looked at it.

Now without the dead animals, the nasty carpeting, and the fact they had been working with the windows and doors open as wide as possible; it felt, and smelled, much more inviting. Buffy really was able to start thinking about it as her future home. Sure she had a flat in Rome with Dawn, Willow and Kennedy. But this was hers she actually co-owned the building with Giles. Soon it would be just her, Spike, and Dawn.

Buffy took in a deep breath and called the girls together, “Alright that’s enough. Where are Ursula, Addison, Zari, and Wendy?” The four oldest girls came forward, “First of all, I want to thank all of you for the amazing work you’ve done in here over the last two days. You’ve blown me away with how much you’ve accomplished in such a short time and I can’t thank you enough.”

“I second that!” Spike interjected.

Buffy nodded at him and continued, “Those of you who were working in the basement on this side already know that one of the main reasons we picked it is that it has super convenient access to the underground tunnels. I have subterranean maps here, one for each group,” she passed the maps out to each of the four oldest girls, “You’ll notice the maps are not complete. That’s where you come in. The other day I had Willow do some tech work for me, updating the tracking system we already had on your phones. We should be able to track you underground as well now,” a couple of the girls made some derogatory sounds at that, “We’ve been over this, we’re not big sister spying on you, this is for your safety. If you go missing or if you’re in trouble, this is the best magicless— magic-lite… the easiest, way we have to find you. It’s not perfect but it’s better than microchipping all of you don’t you think?”

Spike grunted, “Trust me, a phone is way better than a chip.”

“Go on Buffy,” Ursula said, casting a glare at the girls grumbling the loudest.

“Normally we would use these only in emergencies, tonight we are going to use the system to help fill in the blanks on the maps. I have pencils here you can use to make notes. The whole point of this is that we don’t know what is down there; stick together. You get into trouble you can’t handle, you call me. We’ll start out together and split up into groups as the tunnels diverge. It will be daylight soon and a lot of things will be heading for shelter. We’ve talked about evil vs not so evil,” she hitched a thumb at Spike.

“Hey!”

“You’d rather be evil again?” She asked, bringing a stake up.

Spike chuckled, “I’m good, being good. Much better perks,” he grinned.

“That’s what I thought. Point is, assess the situation. If it’s attacking you, feeding off of humans or performing some ritual or something, it’s probably a good bet it’s evil. That said, these tunnels are extensive, take your time and don’t get lost. Any time you see an access point to the surface, take a peek. Get your bearings and make a note of it on the map. Any questions?” There weren’t, “Let’s go.”

Spike lead the way into the basement and opened the concealed door, “Adventure awaits children.”

“I’m not going first,” Cora, a level two girl interrupted.

“No you won’t. That honor belongs to me and Buffy. We’ll be taking the longest tunnel on the map there that should lead all the way into the heart of Edinburgh. You girls will follow behind and branch off where we tell you. Watch for structural damage and collapsed tunnels. You hit a dead end, mark it on the map, text Buffy and head back, take another route. If it starts getting late, head back to the castle. This is a day trip kids, Buffy and I don’t plan on being back to the castle early, very probably nightfall. Hope you all brought snacks.”

“We are just gathering intel, once we have maps drawn up we’ll probably add the tunnels to the patrol lineup.”

There was a general murmur of agreement. Spike turned to Buffy and extended his hand gallantly, “Shall we, Love?”

She placed her hand in his, “We shall,” she smiled.

The tunnel went on as far as they could see, which wasn’t very far because there was very little light. Buffy clicked on her flashlight, the beam penetrating the darkness several feet in front of them. They walked on for less than fifteen minutes before they came to the first intersection of tunnels. Two tunnels branched off to the right at acute angles. Buffy raked her flashlight along the walls and the high ceiling inspecting the bricks.

Buffy checked the map, “Addison, if we’re right, this one to the right here should take you right into town. See where it comes out and mark any tunnels that might intersect. Our theory is that this should be a complete underground road system.”

“Very cool. Alright, let’s go girls, you heard the lady,” Addison shot Ursula a fleeting smile and the girls branched off from the group.

Buffy turned to see who was closer to her, “Ursula? You want to take the second tunnel?”

“Sure thing,” she took a few steps into the tunnel, raising her hand and waving her group over.

Buffy and Spike proceeded down the main tunnel leading the other girls. Sometime later they came to what looked like a large domed room with two tunnels coming off of it. There were shafts of light coming down from the surface here. Buffy climbed a ladder connected to the wall to get a better look.

“What do you see up there, Pet?”

“Definitely a town. Looks like the Wallyford Post Office.”

Spike smoothed the map out on the brick wall and made a note, “Come on down, Love. I think I know where we are.”

“Wallyford?” She asked sarcastically, moving over to him.

Spike pointed to the right hand tunnel, “Smart ass. Look here. That’s our route. It’ll take us through Musselburgh and eventually into Edinburgh. That one over there should run into Dalkeith, eventually.”

“Nice, I think that’s where Sheena is from.”

“Yeah, it is,” Thea answered, “She goes to a Catholic school there during the year.”

“Alright, Wendy, why don’t you take Dalkeith?”

“Got it!” Wendy called

“That leaves Musselburgh for Zari’s group and Edinburgh for us.”

**************

Meanwhile in Callum’s apartment.

“God, Cal,” Faith screamed breathlessly as he pushed her over the edge again. She gripped his shoulders while she rode out the intense wave of pleasure that consumed her, “Cal!” He continued on, building to a fever pitch until finally she felt his own release. Faith screamed in ecstasy again, as yet another wave crashed over them both.

Callum held her in place while they caught their breath. “Hold me, Cal.”

“Aye Lass, I don’t think I could let you go even if I wanted to,” he said as he squeezed her gently.

Once again Faith felt the sting of tears but she pushed them away. Instead she buried her head in his chest. She was just getting herself under control when Callum let out a huff.

“What’s the matter?” She asked.

“I just remembered I made dessert.”

“Seriously?”

“Chocolate mousse with raspberries.”

“Damn, Cal, that sounds really good right about now.”

He kissed the top of her head as he murmured his agreement, “Do you feel like having some now, Lass?”

She grinned, “You had me at chocolate… ya know what, I just noticed something?”

“What’s that?”

“You just let me call you ‘Cal’.”

“Yeah well, I kinda like the way you've been screaming it. Definitely not going to put a stop to that now, am I?” he grinned.

“I did not!”

“Oh aye, Lass, ya did. Over, and over, and over, again. It’s definitely grown on me after that, Love,” he kissed her shoulder, “I’ll happily make you the exception. After tonight you can call me ‘Cal’ anytime you want. Well you and Spike apparently, bloke can’t seem to take a hint.”

“That’s just Spike, he likes his nicknames. He also likes to aggravate people. Might actually stop if you tell him it’s a turn-on.”

Callum laughed, “Maybe I’ll give that a try. Right now I think I’d rather just hear you scream it a little more.”

“Nah ah, you said chocolate.”

“Oh wow, that took an expected turn.”

“Damn straight, amazing sex and chocolate, two of my favorite things.”

Callum grinned, “I’ll let you up on one condition.”

“What’s that?”

“Not a stitch,” he said as he ran his index finger along her throat and down over the dagger and rose tattooed low on her sternum. The breath hitched in her throat as he did so. Callum continued, “Is it just me or does this sweet little dagger here look like it should be the focal point of a larger piece?”

“It was supposed to be. I wanted it to be the start of an underbust design but I just haven’t got around to it. Been seriously busy.”

“I’ll talk to my friend, she can work with you on that if you like. She’s brilliant, she’d give you whatever you want and then some.”

“She did yours?”

“I had another artist do one once and it didn’t turn out so great. I had Gemma do a coverup to fix it and I’ve only gone to her ever since. I think you’d like her. She gave me a hell of a time for not going to her in the first place. Never saw her so pissed.”

“I’d definitely be interested in having this one finished, but right now, I just want chocolate.”

He grinned as he let her up off the bed and followed her out to the kitchen. “Now there’s a sight I could get used to in a hurry,” he said as he watched her take a seat on one of the barstools.

“Back at ya stud,” she winked at him as he pulled two parfait cups filled with pretty layers of mousse, raspberries and whipped cream out of the fridge.

“You got fancy.”

“This?”

“Look, when I was a kid, dessert was a freaking ding-dong. This is amazing.”

He set one down in front of her and went to get spoons from a drawer, “I’m going to laugh and just pretend I know a ding-dong is some sort of a sweet treat and not—“ he gestured to his own naked body.

She bobbed her head, laughing, “It's a pretty versatile word, in this case, it’s this little cake with cream filling and a waxy frosting on the outside that really makes it look like a hockey puck.”

“Sounds appetising,” he said doubtfully as he handed her a spoon.

“Trust me, you’re not missing out. This looks like something you’d pay for in a fancy restaurant.”

“It’s funny to hear you say that. This was a common dessert when I was growing up. My mum used to make this a lot, especially in summer, it’s quick and easy. So what are the others up to tonight?”

“Nothing tonight, taking the girls out in the morning,” she said, taking a bite, “Oh that’s good!”

He smiled as he watched her from his seat next to her, “Glad you like it, Lass.”

When they had finished, Callum cleared the dishes including the ones from dinner. “What next? Movie, sleep, another round?” He grinned.

Faith took his hand leading to the bedroom, “I could go for another round with the champ.”

“Don’t need to ask me twice”, he said as he scooped her up into a fireman’s carry.

She squealed as he deposited her on the bed and made a move to join her. As he did he caught sight of the clock on his nightstand, “Bloody hell, is that the time?”

Faith turned to look. “3:15? Sounds about right. Bet the kids are starting out on their field trip about now too.”

Callum rolled over with a huff, grabbed the phone by the bed and began to dial.

Faith got up on her elbows, “Who the hell are you calling?”

“Leaving a message at the hardware store. I can’t go anywhere with food poisoning, now can I?” he grinned.

Faith pulled herself up close to him, laying kisses along his back as she let her hands wander freely. She had to give him props for staying focused on his phone call. Grinning to herself, she kissed his neck just as he finished leaving his message. Callum hung up the phone and reached around to grab her by the waist, “Now where were we?”

Faith threw her leg around him, straddling him where he sat on the edge of the bed. “Does that mean I get you all to myself today?”

“Tomorrow too if you like.”

“The love-birds can handle things. I’ll call to check on Giles later, he was going to ask a ‘friend’ of his to come over.”

“I’m not opposed to going back to your place later if you need to.”

“Let’s hope not. I’d hate to have to put clothes on. Makes it really hard to do this,” she said as she positioned herself over him, and settled down. Slowly, she began rolling her hips.

“Oh aye, Lass, can’t have that now can we?” He asked in a hushed tone.

He held her in place helping her glide up and down on top of him. Faith raised her arms above her head sensually and Callum moved his mouth to her breast, teasing her with his tongue. Faith let out a little gasp and brought her arms down around his neck as she increased her pace. Callum moved to kiss her neck roughly, “Hang on tight,” he whispered in her ear.

“Cal!” Faith called out as she gripped him firmly. He flipped them over and further onto the bed. “Oh God, Cal!” Faith screamed as the first wave crashed over her a few moments later.

“That’s it, Love,” he said and kissed her again.

********************

“Got something up here, Love,” Spike said in a hushed tone.

“I see it too.”

There were lights shining from the end of the tunnel Buffy and Spike were in. Not long after they had broken away from the last group of girls the tunnels began to change into something that more resembled a buried city. They had been on their own for about an hour and had only come across two vampires that gave them any trouble. Most of the other creatures they saw made it a point to get out of their way quickly. The closer they got to the city above ground the more the city underground took shape. Along the way they had passed several tunnel-like streets going in various directions.

As they came into an open area similar to a town square, Spike turned to her, “Welcome to Edinburgh Undertown, Pet. I think I have a general idea of where I am now. If memory serves, this is pretty close to the market. Think of it almost like a demonic flea market. They sell everything from the usual charms, spells and trinkets to exotic bloods and weaponry.”

“We’re not shopping.”

“Nothing is open now anyway. Most of these folks sleep during the day. The ones who don’t are probably on the surface.”

“Hence the reason we’re here now.”

“Don’t you ‘hence’ me, you little minx, I know the mission. I’m just trying to give a little context. Good bit of the folks you got down here are more like the demons at Xander and Anya’s not-wedding. Not exactly the hardcore evil types. The real nasties are on the outskirts, not so much here. Dru and I lived in a place like this for a couple years, quite nice really, but it got boring. Needed some excitement, some carnage.”

“Yeah what I’m seeing right now seems kinda tame, and weird…” Buffy said as they passed what looked like a daycare on one side of the street and a barbershop on the other.

“What were you expecting?”

“Definitely not this... I mean, a daycare? And look, that barbershop is advertising horn grinding.”

“Oh yeah that’s pretty common. A lot of Demons need to have them ground down either to fit in with folks on the surface or because they grow too fast. They cater to all sorts. Get a lot of vampires in these places.”

“Really?”

“Absolutely, not easy to cut hair without a reflection. Got to do it all by feel. I’ve got pretty good at it over the years. Now I know this place is here, I’ll probably be giving it a try.”

“Seriously? How did I not know this was a thing?”

“Didn’t you ever go into the one in Sunnydale?”

“Didn’t know there was one… how is that even possible?”

“Sort of makes sense I guess. Remember Rack’s place?”

“That guy,” she said darkly.

“Yeah, well it was cloaked like that. Guess they didn’t want the Slayer coming in while folks were getting spiffy. Never thought you didn’t know about it though. Where did you think Angel and I got our hair done?”

“I just thought you guys did it yourself…”

“Can and have, a lot. It’s just nice having someone else do it from time to time.”

“Huhh… yup, still a little weird, I don’t know.”

The two of them made their way along the main street until they came to a corner pub. Inside it was very like many of the pubs in Edinburgh. There was a lot of stone and wood work. A gleaming bar was lined with a variety of demonic patrons.

The bartender, a human looking demon with large rams horns curling out of his head, looked up at the two of them skeptically. He was tall and thin with a pinched face and curly dark blonde hair , “What can I get for you?”

“Scotch on the rocks,” Spike answered and turned to Buffy.

She looked at him with the barest hint of disapproval but didn’t say anything. In truth a drink didn’t sound like a bad idea, so instead she just shrugged and turned to the bartender, “We’re new to the area, just checking things out.”

The bartender looked at her even more critically, “New to the area? Right… well not much to see around here,” he looked around the bar and leaned towards Buffy dropping his voice, “Look Slayer, we run things above board. Keep our noses out of other’s business. Everyone around here is just trying to get by.”

“If I had a dollar for every time I heard that. How do you know who I am?”

He grabbed a glass and a bottle of Scotch as he spoke, “I got a sense about these things. It's no secret that there’s more than one slayer around and it hasn’t been real great for business, I’ll tell you that.”

Spike accepted the glass of scotch and took a sip, “This your place?”

“It is.”

“What’s your name?”

“Steve.”

”Right Steve. I’m Spike, this here is Buffy. Look, we’re not here to stir up trouble.”

“You bring a Slayer in here and you expect me to believe that?” the bartender said in a strained whisper, “What’s she got on you anyway vampire? She promise not to stake you if you show her around?”

“Not exactly. You know, a lot of things can’t pick her out of a lineup. It does pique my curiosity. Must come in handy as a bartender.”

“What’s it to you?”

Spike glanced at Buffy, “If you can read her, you can probably read me too…”

“Sure, vampi— wait a second—-“ the bartender’s face took on a look of confusion as he looked more closely at Spike, “What the— How—“

“I’ll take that as a ‘yes’—“ he drained his drink and tapped the bar for another, “You know what’s going on around here; you have your ear to the ground. Let’s make a deal.”

“W— What kind of deal?” He stammered still looking at Spike aghast as he refilled his glass.

Buffy leaned in a little, “The kind where you feed us information and we don’t wreck the place,” she reached for Spike’s drink and took a sip.

“Or your customers,” Spike menaced.

“Look, I’m not joking. Most of the demons that come in here are just regular folks. Most of them barely ever even go to the surface.”

“I’m not interested in little fish. I want you to tell us when something more unusual comes along. We’re talking about the real nasty, big bad, kind of stuff,” Buffy said.

Spike took another sip of his drink, “I’d take the deal. The lady doesn’t work by halves. Gets cranky when she doesn’t get to kill something for too long too.”

The bartender studied the two of them nervously before answering, “How— how do I contact you?”

“Oh someone will be through fairly regularly. If it’s not one of us, we’ll send someone. You’ll know. If you catch something big that’s going down fast, you can call this number,” she told him as she pulled out a simple business card. The card simply read, “Slayer Central”, with a phone number Willow had rigged up as a party-line that rang in on Buffy, Faith and Willow’s phones at once. It was the number they handed out to pretty much everyone outside of the Scoobies and the Slayerettes. The number was also untraceable by electronic or magical means.

The bartender locked eyes with Buffy as she handed him the card, “Alright, sure. Whatever you want. Just keep it civil alright?”

Spike offered Buffy his drink, “Cheers, Love.”

She took a sip and handed it back to him. Spike tipped his glass towards the bartender, “Here’s to ya Steve, to the start of a beautiful friendship,” he said downing the last of his drink.

The two of them left the underground pub a few minutes later, after making a few adjustments to their map. They continued down the street looking into shop windows and up and down alleys just to get a feel of the place.

“At least now I know where demons get all their robes,” Buffy said as they passed the third robe shop.

A large burly looking demon came out of what looked like another pub, coming their way. He didn’t seem to notice them until they were a few feet away. The demon’s head suddenly jerked up and he started sniffing the air, locking his eyes on Buffy.

“Is that a human I smell?” he growled, licking his scaly lips.

“Sure is!” she smiled sweetly.

“Stirring up trouble, mate?”

The demon glanced at Spike for the first time, “What do you care, vampire?”

Spike shrugged a shoulder, “Could say I’m protecting my interest,” he said changing his face, preparing for a fight.

The demon staggered drunkenly as he tried for a fighting stance. Spike rolled his eyes and glanced at Buffy, “Talk about low hanging fruit,” she said.

“Let’s get out of here, Pet.”

As they moved past him the large demon swung drunkenly at Spike, “This isn’t any of your business, Vampire.”

Spike dodged the punch easily, the big guy toppled and landed on his face. Spike eyed him in disgust. He sighed, “Help me with this idiot would you, Love?”

“You’re kidding right?”

“I’ve played cards with plenty of these guys. He might be big but they’re not exactly capital “B” bad. These guys are like the big biker guys that are secretly gardeners or knitters and whatnot. All the ones I met look like big bruisers on the outside but on the inside they’re, well Clem.”

Buffy looked at him doubtfully and sighed, “Sometimes you can be such a softy.”

“Bite your tongue or I’ll do it for you. Just help me with him, would you,” he snapped as he hauled the demon up into a sitting position.

“The things we do for love,” she sighed as she took the demon under one large arm and Spike took the other. “What do you want to do with him?”

Spike pointed to a little alcove next to a set of steps, “Over there’s good, just so folks aren’t tripping over the bloke,” he grunted as they dragged him over the ground, “Where do you get off saying ‘the things we do for love’ anyway, Pet? Not that I’m keeping score or anything but seems to me like I’m the one making most of the sacrifices. Again, not keeping score. I’d do it all over again for you but still… that sort of hit a nerve.”

They heaved the big demon over and made him as comfortable as possible on the hard ground. Buffy straightened up looking squarely at Spike. She had only meant it as a joke but he had a point. She had made sacrifices, sure; but when it specifically came to their relationship, he was right. She gaped at him, “Spike—“

A wave of pain shot through him and he knew it came from her. “Don’t take it like that. I didn’t mean— I don’t have any regrets… well no, I got lots of regrets— but not any of the greater good stuff. Definitely a few of the more unsavoury things I wouldn’t mind scrubbing from the record.”

Buffy shook her head, “No, no, I get it,” she said calmly as she made her way back towards the street the way they had come.

“Buffy…” he said catching up to her, “Buffy, oh come on, Love.”

“No, you’re right—“

He caught up to her spinning her around, “Buffy, that came out a lot worse than I meant.”

“I know… and I know you don’t ask for much because most of that stuff just doesn’t matter to you and—- there’s a lot you could complain about, but you don’t. I mean, be honest, how do you feel about moving to Scotland permanently?” She asked as she pushed her awareness towards him trying to pick up on what he was feeling.

“You know how I feel about that, Pet. I like it here just fine. I’m good with living here, with you. It’s not really about me, Pet. It’s where you need to be and I just need to be with you.”

Buffy looked up at him, a tone thrummed through her head like a literal note of truth striking just the right cord, “Thank you.”

He took her hand in his own, “Don’t mention it, Pet. You know how I feel about you.”

“I just want you to know that if the circumstances were reversed, if it was your job we were moving for, I’d do it for you.”

They walked on through the nearly deserted streets. There were a few signs of life but not many.

“I know you would, Love. Don’t fret. You did a lot for me when the First was using my body as a knife sharpener and my brain as a piñata. That definitely counts for something. Something big. Not to mention that soddingchip.”

“Yeah, I guess you’re right. But it’s not really the same.”

“Hell it ain’t. I’d been done for, a hundred times over if not for you, Pet. I think I can stand being the supporting boyfriend,” he grinned.

“That simple huh?”

“Damn straight it is. At least for now. You know how it goes, Sweetheart. Something always comes up and we bat it down like soddingcosmic whack-a-mole.”

“Now there’s an image.”

They walked on in a different direction. Buffy kept looking up at the ceiling of the great cavernous tunnel they were in. It was such an odd feeling being in an underground city. Sure Sunnydale had had a tunnel system, but this was huge. She squeezed Spike’s hand as she looked around at the buildings. These were homes and businesses. The place was relatively quiet now but come nightfall it would be a buzzing hub of activity.

“You know what I don’t get?” She said suddenly as they turned down a narrow alleyway.

“Why the majority of them sleep during the day even when they are underground?”

“Could you hear me thinking?”

“Not strong, had a pretty good idea what was going through your head though.”

“Still, that’s something. I wasn’t even trying to push my thoughts towards you.”

He lifted their intertwined fingers, “Minimal physical contact too. Might have to make it a point to work on this thing.”

“I’d like that.”

“You sure you want to go snooping around in my noggin? It’s pretty messy.”

She stopped turning towards him in the dimly lit alley, “If you can be the supportive boyfriend, I think I can handle this.”

“What if we end up not just sharing surface thoughts? What if—“

“You’re worried about me seeing your more ick-some memories too.”

“Well, yeah. It’s not particularly pleasant in here.”

“Let’s just take it one thing at a time alright? We can try a few meditation tricks Willow thought me and go from there. I want to do this for you. I want that deeper connection to you.”

“You’re sure?”

She tilted her head towards him, “I am.”

Spike pressed his lips to hers pushing thoughts of love towards her filling her up like a cup. Suddenly he felt her pushing back, growing more desperate with each movement of their lips and tongues. Love and devotion pushed and pulled between them as they continued the kiss. Buffy reached for Spike’s belt and was ready to take him right there in the alley just like they had in Paris; when Buffy got an incoming text. And another. And another.

“Bullocks, what the bloody hell is going on with that damn thing?” Spike grumbled as he relaxed his hold on her.

Buffy sighed as she looked down at her phone and grimaced, “Well, damn.”

“What’s up?”

She handed her phone over to him:

SOS!!!

Meet at castle

Messed up

Spike read it twice, “Bloody hell… Wendy… yeah alright, let’s go, Slayer. But we’re continuing this first chance we get.”

“God yes.”

“Feeling a little pent-up are you?”

#fanfic #buffy the vampire slayer #bound #buffy fanfic #buffy x spike #spuffy #spike x buffy

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scapegrace74-blog · 3 years

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New Ways of Turning Into Stone, Chapter 2

A/N I should really think of story titles with fewer words in them, huh? Thank you so much for the warm reception to the first chapter of my latest fic! Of course, we all want to know what caused Janet to force Jamie to seek out grief counselling services. But before we get there, I think we need to know a little bit more about the good doctor herself. So no Jamie in this chapter, but never fear, he’ll be back in the next one! Trigger warning for fertility issues. The working chapter title is “Psychiatrist, Heal Thyself”.

Friday evening arrived, announced by two days of nearly pristine pages in her planner. Exhausted by the work week’s hectic schedule, Claire stood ambivalently at the doorstep of each dawning weekend. It wasn’t that she minded the time alone. Quite the opposite; she was fond of her own company. But a quiet mind was a mind open to whispers of the past, and those she couldn’t abide.

“What are yer plans fer the next twa days, then?” Geillis asked as she locked the office door. Her friend was well-versed in Claire’s many coping mechanisms, even the ones Claire barely acknowledged herself.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” she replied as they got into the lift. “A few classes at the gym, tidying my flat, maybe a run.”

“Christ, tha’ sounds like a punishment, no’ a break! Ye need tae recharge, Doctor Beauchamp. Would ye stop tae smell the flowers, jus’ fer a second, fer me?”

Watching the floor numbers slowly tick down, Claire considered her friend’s oft-repeated counsel. It wasn’t that she doubted the sincerity or sense behind the plea: clinically, she knew the healing power of relaxation, of doing something for the sheer pleasure of it, or of doing nothing at all. She had been on the treadmill of mindless momentum for so long, though, she wasn’t sure she remembered how to to step off.

The bell dinged and they walked together across the lobby. Everywhere, people were milling about, rushing with a mobile tucked between chin and shoulder, meeting friends for an après-work drink. They reminded Claire of ants, engaged in alien activities she could only interpret from a distance.

“I’ll take it under advisement, Geil,” she placated. They had reached the pavement outside their office, where each weekend they parted to go their separate ways.

“Alright, hen. Call me, if... weel, ye ken ye can always call, right?”

The back of her throat constricted, squeezing moisture towards her eyes. Rather than risk speaking, Claire nodded emphatically, gave her friend a quick hug, and walked away without a backwards glance.

***

The next day dawned with a moist crispness to the air. Having lived in the capital long enough to know that any pleasant weather might be short-lived, Claire threw the windows of her flat open to the timid breeze. Pushing her utilitarian furniture against the walls and rolling back a threadbare Oriental carpet she’d inherited from her uncle, she proceeded to mop and then wax her floors. Curls restrained in a kerchief, she’d donned her oldest yoga pants and sweat top for this Saturday morning cleaning ritual. The kitchen was next. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was perspiring and a number of ringlets had escaped confinement.

After a much-needed shower, she decided to apply a hot oil treatment and throw together an egg-white omelette. She ate on the couch, the morning paper balanced on her knee.

Ten o’clock. Only twelve more hours to go before bedtime.

***

Emboldened by the continued clear skies, Claire decided to try a new running route after lunch. She usually ran the perimetre of Holyrood Park before finishing up with a hard sprint to the rocky nub of Arthur’s Seat. Today, she took the tram to Corstorphine Hill, the site of an under-visited walled garden according to an article she’d read online. Dirt paths meandered the park, entering and leaving oak woods whose grassy skirts were embroidered by sunlight and bluebells. It was all quite enchanting, and by the time she came across the walled garden, her heart beat with a long-lost weightlessness.

The garden itself was a pocket wonder; tiny but bursting with botanical life. And while she didn’t literally stoop to smell any of the vernal blooms, she thought Geillis would be quite satisfied when they shared their usual Monday debrief of their weekend activities.

Walking downhill in search of a water fountain, a muddied roar travelled on the springtime wind. It took a moment to place it, but she recalled that Murrayfield Stadium was located just to the south of the park. Never a huge sporting enthusiast, she hadn’t been aware that a Scottish national rugby match was being played that afternoon.

Thoughts of rugby called to mind her newest patient. With his height and bulk, she could imagine him following the sport, if not playing it himself. Reason enough, she mused, to wander past the stadium as she cooled down.

With her mind pre-occupied, she completely missed the queue of people until it was too late.

“Frank!” a shrill voice broke her reverie, sending an icicle of dread down her spine. Her heart kicked back into high gear, while her eyes scanned about for an approaching threat. A tow-headed boy ran past, chasing a squirrel. She stepped automatically out of his way, but managed to stumble over a tree root in her haste.

“Franklin! Come back here this instant an’ apologize tae this lady! Ye near knocked her o’er.”

Turning round, Claire was confronted by a hugely pregnant pale-haired woman, presumably the mother of the young boy who was now scuffing his feet through the leaf litter on his reluctant return. She looked for a quick escape, but there were families everywhere. She’d completely forgotten that the Edinburgh Zoo shared the hill with the park.

“I’m terribly sorry,” the mother offered. “He’s sae excited tae see the pandas, ye ken. An’ I canna chase after him as I used tae.” As she spoke, the woman rubbed the globe of her belly, her eyes alight with the mysterious joys of impending motherhood. It suddenly hurt to breath.

“No... errr, it’s fine, really,” she stammered. “No harm done.” Which was patently untrue, but the damage was pre-existing and beyond repair. “Congratulations,” she choked out, the word like chalk in her mouth.

The woman seemed eager to strike up a conversation. With a mumbled apology, Claire took off at a run, weaving down the path to the pavement, turning east and sprinting back to the safety of her flat, nearly three kilometres away.

***

As the evening wore on, it became impossible to overlook the truth of the day’s events. No matter how hard she tried to pretend otherwise, Claire still wasn’t recovered from the ordeal that befell her over two years’ ago. The irony of being a grief counsellor who couldn’t manage to overcome her own grief was bitter on her tongue. What right did she have to counsel others in behaviours she couldn’t master herself?

She didn’t begrudge Frank his happiness, but she envied him greatly. Their inability to conceive had torn a fatal wound in their relationship. Both of them had suffered, both of them had lost a spouse. But where Frank had quickly moved on to find another, more fertile partner, Claire felt like she was trapped in a never-ending cycle of self-blame and contempt. No matter how far she ran or how diligently she planned the tidy compartments of her life, the anguish found her. It was a corrosive shadow that dogged her days, always ready to darken her brightest moments.

It was well past eleven o’clock and she lay watching the flare of headlights chase each other across her bedroom ceiling. A bottle of prescription pills promised sweet oblivion from inside her night table drawer. She resisted for as long as she could, but as the minutes crept by, weary resignation won out.

Swallowing two of the capsules dry, she lay like a corpse wrapped in an Egyptian cotton shroud. Slowly, the dry ice fog and discord of approaching sleep pulled her down, down, down below the waves of consciousness where nothing could harm her.

#my writing #outlander

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parquethofffloor · 1 year

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A Complete Guide To Choosing The Perfect Flooring For Your Edinburgh Home

Welcome to our complete guide on choosing the perfect flooring for your Edinburgh home. Whether you're embarking on a full-scale renovation or simply looking to refresh the style of a room, selecting the right flooring can make all the difference. At [Brand Name], we understand the importance of finding a flooring solution that not only meets your aesthetic preferences but also suits your lifestyle and budget. Our brand voice is all about providing expert advice and practical tips to help you make informed decisions. With our guide, you will gain valuable insights into the pros and cons of different flooring materials, understand how to choose the right flooring for specific areas of your home, and learn about the latest design trends in the world of flooring. Get ready to transform your Flooring Edinburgh home into a stylish and comfortable space with our comprehensive flooring guide. Let's dive in!

The importance of choosing the right flooring for your home

Your home is your sanctuary, and you want it to be comfortable, stylish, and functional. The flooring you choose plays a crucial role in achieving these goals. The right flooring can enhance the look and feel of a room, add value to your home, and make it easier to clean and maintain. On the other hand, the wrong flooring can be a costly and frustrating mistake. That's why it's essential to take the time to research and compare flooring options before making a decision.

Factors to consider when selecting flooring

Before you start shopping for flooring, there are several factors you should consider. These include:

Durability

The amount of traffic in your home is an essential factor in choosing durable flooring. If you have a family with pets and kids, you need a floor that can withstand high traffic and wear and tear. Conversely, if you live alone or with a partner, you may not need a durable floor.

Style

The style of your flooring should match your aesthetic preferences and complement the existing decor in your home. Consider the color, texture, and pattern of the flooring and how it will look with your furniture, walls, and accessories.

Functionality

The functionality of your flooring is also important. Certain types of flooring are better suited for specific areas of your home than others. For example, carpet is ideal for bedrooms, while tile is perfect for kitchens and bathrooms.

Budget

Your budget is a critical factor in choosing the right flooring. Determine how much you can afford to spend and compare prices of different flooring types to find one that fits your budget.

Types of flooring options available

There are several types of flooring options available, each with its own unique features and benefits. These include:

Hardwood

Hardwood flooring is a classic and timeless option that adds warmth and elegance to any room. It's durable, easy to clean, and comes in a variety of wood species, colors, and finishes. However, it can be expensive and susceptible to scratches and dents.

Laminate

Laminate flooring is a popular and affordable alternative to hardwood. It's easy to install, durable, and comes in a variety of styles that mimic the look of hardwood, tile, or stone. However, it's not as durable as hardwood and can be prone to scratches.

Carpet

Carpet is a cozy and comfortable flooring option that's perfect for bedrooms, living rooms, and other areas where you want a soft, plush feel underfoot. It's available in a range of colors, textures, and patterns and is easy to clean. However, it can be prone to stains and wear and tear.

Vinyl

Vinyl flooring is a low-maintenance, affordable option that's perfect for high-traffic areas like kitchens and bathrooms. It's available in a range of colors and styles and is easy to clean and install. However, it can be prone to fading and can feel cold and hard underfoot.

Tile

Tile flooring is a durable and stylish option that's perfect for kitchens, bathrooms, and other areas prone to moisture and spills. It's available in a range of colors, patterns, and sizes and is easy to clean. However, it can be slippery when wet and can be expensive to install.

Pros and cons of each flooring type

Each flooring type has its own unique advantages and disadvantages. Here's a rundown of the pros and cons of each flooring type:

Hardwood

Pros:

Timeless and elegant

Durable and long-lasting

Adds value to your home

Cons:

Expensive

Prone to scratches and dents

Not suitable for high-moisture areas

Laminate

Pros:

Affordable

Easy to install

Durable and resistant to stains

Cons:

Not as durable as hardwood

Can be prone to scratches

Doesn't add as much value to your home

Carpet

Pros:

Soft and comfortable underfoot

Available in a range of colors and styles

Easy to clean

Cons:

Prone to stains and wear and tear

Not suitable for high-traffic areas

Doesn't add as much value to your home

Vinyl

Pros:

Low-maintenance and easy to clean

Affordable

Suitable for high-traffic areas

Cons:

Can be prone to fading

Feels cold and hard underfoot

May not add as much value to your home

Tile

Pros:

Durable and long-lasting

Resistant to moisture and spills

Available in a range of colors and patterns

Cons:

Slippery when wet

Expensive to install

Can be cold and hard underfoot

Popular flooring trends in Edinburgh

Edinburgh is a city known for its rich history and stunning architecture. When it comes to flooring trends, Edinburgh homeowners tend to favor classic and timeless options like hardwood and tile. However, there are some emerging trends to keep in mind, including:

Patterned tile

Patterned tile is a popular choice for kitchens and bathrooms in Edinburgh homes. It adds a touch of elegance and interest to a room and can be used to create a statement floor.

Wide-plank hardwood

Wide-plank hardwood is a trend that's gaining popularity in Edinburgh. It adds a modern twist to a classic flooring option and can make a room feel more spacious.

Textured carpet

Textured carpet is a cozy and comfortable option that's perfect for Edinburgh's chilly climate. It adds depth and dimension to a room and is available in a range of patterns and textures.

Determining the best flooring for different rooms in your home

Different rooms in your home have different flooring needs. Here's a guide to help you choose the best flooring for each room:

Living room

The living room is a high-traffic area that requires durable flooring. Hardwood, laminate, and carpet are all good options, depending on your style and budget.

Kitchen

The kitchen is a high-moisture area that requires flooring that can withstand spills and stains. Tile and vinyl are both good options.

Bathroom

The bathroom is another high-moisture area that requires flooring that can withstand water and humidity. Tile and vinyl are both good options.

Bedroom

The bedroom is a cozy and comfortable area that requires soft flooring underfoot. Carpet is an excellent option for this room.

Budgeting for your flooring project

Flooring can be a significant investment, so it's essential to budget carefully. Here are some things to keep in mind when budgeting for your flooring project:

Measure your space

Before you start shopping for flooring, measure the space you want to cover. This will help you determine how much flooring you need and how much it will cost.

Compare prices

Compare prices of different flooring types and brands to find one that fits your budget. Don't forget to factor in installation costs as well.

Consider the long-term cost

Remember to consider the long-term cost of your flooring. While hardwood may be more expensive upfront, it may save you money in the long run by adding value to your home and lasting longer than other options.

Finding a reputable flooring supplier in Edinburgh

Choosing a reputable flooring supplier is essential to the success of your flooring project. Here are some tips for finding a reliable supplier in Edinburgh:

Do your research

Research flooring suppliers in your area and read reviews from previous customers. Look for suppliers with a good reputation for quality products and service.

Ask for references

If possible, ask for references from previous customers. This will give you an idea of the supplier's level of expertise and customer service.

Check for accreditation

Check if the supplier is accredited by a reputable industry organization. This will ensure that they follow industry standards and best practices.

Installation and maintenance tips for your chosen flooring

Once you've chosen your flooring, it's essential to install and maintain it properly. Here are some tips to keep in mind:

Installation

Have your flooring installed by a professional to ensure that it's done correctly. This will prevent costly mistakes and ensure that your flooring lasts as long as possible.

Maintenance

Follow the manufacturer's instructions for cleaning and maintaining your flooring. This will help extend its lifespan and keep it looking its best.

Repairs

Address any repairs or damage to your flooring as soon as possible. This will prevent the problem from getting worse and potentially costing you more money in the long run.

#Flooring Edinburgh

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lifeofkaze · 3 years

Note

5 - Past - Selene

8 - Past - Caro

9 - Present- Lizzie

12 - Present- Selene

6 - Future- Caro

Alright wifey, let's do this! 💛💙

Where did they grow up? What was it like? Were they happy there? Selene grew up in Edinburgh, in the townhouse of her parents. Even though it was in the middle of the city, she wasn't allowed to leave the house much, only accompanying her mother when she was running errands. Being an only-child, Selene had no one to play with and spend her days busying herself in the house, much to her mother's chagrin who didn't like Selene's creativity that much - sliding down the stairs on a carpet doesn't befit a young lady after all. The first time Selene felt really, truly happy - before attending Hogwarts, that is - was the one time she was allowed to visit her grandparents in the Highlands and she ran barefoot along the lake next to the Fraser Estate.

What was their childhood/teenage bedroom like? In Caro's bedroom everything is of the highest quality, very chic, very stylish, always clean and oderly - of course, when you have house elves taking care of it.

What kind of place do they live in? AoB: Her parents own a small house with a garden on the outskirts of Lyme Regis, Dorset.

SfB: Lizzie lives in a flat in Wigtown, in a building that mostly houses players/associates of the Wigtown Wanderers. The flat opposite to her belongs to Skye.

Rockstar: The most expensive thing Lizzie has ever bought and probably will ever buy was her very modern, very chic flat in Chelsea.

If someone mentioned their name to someone else, what would they immediately think of (i.e. defining characteristic, appearance- or personality-wise)? Fraser heiress, wild child, Ethel Hexley's actual twin, knows her whiskey and can stomach way too much of fit for her size.

How do they react to the changing times? Are they adaptable or do they reject modernity? Caro is very much here for the slowly increasing independence women are going to see over the next few years. She loves the new fashion, is a little dubious about the fifties and sixties, though. She is not happy that the one time Brady shows interest in fashion the clothes of the time are ghastly.

#ask game #wifey asks #lizzie jameson #selene fraser #carolyn nyberg

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theculturedmarxist · 3 years

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Below is the story of my day touring Tema with Prince Philip, in this chapter from my book “The Catholic Orangemen of Togo”. You may be surprised to read that I rather liked him.

The African Queen

One morning I was sitting in the lounge at Devonshire House, with its fitted wool carpets and chintz sofas. I was drinking the tea that our steward, Nasser, had brought me. I heard movement in a corner of the room, and thought it must be Nasser cleaning there. But looking round, I saw nobody. Puzzled, I got up and walked towards that corner. Rounding a settee, I nearly stood upon a thin, green snake. About four feet long and just the thickness of your thumb, it was a bright, almost lime green colour. There was not much wedge shape to its head, which rather tapered from its neck. Its tongue was flickering toward me, perhaps a foot away, its head raised only slightly off the floor. I took a step backwards. In response it too retreated, at surprising speed, and zipped up the inside of the curtains.

I stood stock still and yelled “Nasser! Nasser!” This brought Nasser hurrying into the living room with Gloria, the cook. “Nasser, there’s a snake in the curtains!” Nasser and Gloria screamed, threw their arms in the air, and ran together into the kitchen and out the back door of the house. This was not altogether helpful.

I remained where I was to keep an eye on the snake, not wanting it to be lurking inside the house unseen. After a while the front door opened and somebody, presumably Nasser, threw in Nasser’s scruffy little dog. The dog was normally banned from the house, and celebrated this unexpected turn of events by immediately urinating against the hall table. Then the dog too ran into the kitchen and out of the back door.

Abandoning my watch, I went out and recruited the reluctant gardeners and gate guards. They armed themselves with long sticks and came in and beat the curtains until the snake fell onto the floor. As it sped for cover under a sofa, Samuel the youngest gardener got in a solid blow, and soon everyone was joining in, raining down blows on the twitching snake. They carried its disjointed body out on the end of a stick, and burnt it on a bonfire.

Everyone identified it as a green mamba. I was sceptical. Green mambas are among the world’s deadliest snakes, and I imagined them to look beefy like cobras, not whip thin and small headed like this. But a search on the agonisingly slow internet showed that indeed it did look very like a green mamba.

The important question arose of how it had entered the house. With air conditioning, the doors and windows were usually shut. Nasser seemed to have solved the mystery when he remarked that a dead one had been found last year inside an air conditioner. The unit had stopped working, and when they came to fix it they found a snake jammed in the mechanism. That seemed the answer; it had appeared just under a conditioner, and it seemed likely the slim snake had entered via the vent pipe, avoiding the fan as it crawled through the unit.

This was very worrying. If anti-venom was available (and we held a variety in the High Commission) an adult would probably survive a green mamba bite. But it would almost certainly be fatal to Emily, and possibly to Jamie.

A week or so later, I was constructing Emily’s climbing frame, which had arrived from the UK. A rambling contraption of rungs, slides, platforms and trampolines, it required the bolting together of scores of chrome tubes. I was making good progress on it and, as I lifted one walkway side into position above my head, a mamba slid out of the end of the tube, down my arm, round my belly and down my leg. It did this in no great hurry; it probably took four seconds, but felt like four minutes.

There was one terrible moment when it tried an exploratory nuzzle of its head into the waistband of my trousers, but luckily it decided to proceed down the outside to the ground. It then zig zagged across the lawn to nestle in the exposed tops of the roots of a great avocado tree. Again the mob arrived and beat it to death with sticks. I persuaded them to keep the body this time, and decided that definite action was needed.

I called in a pest control expert. I was advised to try the “Snake Doctor”. I was a bit sceptical, equating “Snake Doctor” with “Witch Doctor”, but when he arrived I discovered that this charming chubby Ghanaian really did have a PhD in Pest Control from the University of Reading. As Fiona had an MSc in Crop Protection from the same Department, they got on like a house on fire and it was difficult to get them away from cups of tea to the business in hand.

He confirmed that the dead snake really was a green mamba. We obviously had a colony. They lived in trees, and he advised us to clear an area of wasteland beyond the boundaries of our house, and build a high boundary wall of rough brick at the back, rather than the existing iron palings. He also suggested we cut down an avenue of some 16 huge mature trees along the drive. I was very sad, but followed this sensible advice. That removed the mamba problem from Devonshire House. But I continued to attract mambas on my travels around Ghana.

The second half of that first year in Ghana was to be almost entirely taken up with preparations for the State Visit of the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh in November 1999. A huge amount of work goes into organising such a visit; every move is staged and choreographed, designed for media effect. You need to know in advance just where everybody is going to be, who will move where when, and what they will say. You need to place and organise the media to best advantage. You need to stick within very strict rules as to what the Queen will or will not do. Most difficult of all, you have to agree all this with the host government.

I had been through it all quite recently, having paid a major part in the organisation of the State Visit to Poland in 1996. That had gone very well. The Poles regarded it as an important symbol that communism had been definitively finished. It was visually stunning, and at a time when the Royal Family was dogged with hostile media coverage, it had been their first unmixed positive coverage in the UK for ages. I had handled the media angles, and my stock stood very high in the Palace.

I am a republican personally; I was just doing my job. The Palace staff knew I was a republican, not least because I had turned down the offer of being made a Lieutenant of the Royal Victorian Order (LVO) after the Warsaw visit. I had earlier turned down the offer to be an Officer of the Order of the British Empire (OBE) after the first Gulf war.

Rawlings was delighted that the Queen was coming. He craved respectability and acceptance in the international community, which had been hard to come by after his violent beginnings. But he had turned his Provisional National Defence Council (PNDC) into a political party, the National Democratic Congress (NDC), and had fought elections in 1992 and 1996 against the opposition New Patriotic Party, which had an unbroken tradition running back to Nkrumah’s opponent J B Danquah and his colleague Kofi Busia. There were widespread allegations of vote-rigging, violence and intimidation, and certainly in 1992 the nation was still too cowed to engage in much open debate.

Even by 1999, social life was still inhibited by the fact that nobody except those close to the Rawlings would do anything that might be construed as an ostentatious display of life, while Rawlings had sustained and inflated the personality cult of Nkrumah still further (he is known as Osagyefo, “the conqueror”.) Open discussion of the disasters Nkrumah brought upon Ghana was almost impossible. It is still difficult for many Ghanaians today, after decades of brainwashing. As Rawlings had gradually liberalised society, the increasing freedom of the media, particularly the FM radio station, was giving a great boost to democracy. But there was still much prudent self-censorship. The media was particularly reticent about investigating governmental corruption.

The NDC government was massively corrupt. There was one gratuitous example which especially annoyed me. A company called International Generics, registered in Southampton, had got loans totalling over £30 million from the Royal Bank of Scotland to construct two hotels, La Palm and Coco Palm. One was on the beach next to the Labadi Beach Hotel, the other on Fourth Circular Road in Cantonments, on the site of the former Star Hotel. The loan repayments were guaranteed by the Export Credit Guarantee Department, at the time a British government agency designed to insure UK exporters against loss. In effect the British taxpayer was underwriting the export, and if the loan defaulted the British taxpayer would pay.

In fact, this is what happened, and the file crossed my desk because the British people were now paying out on defaulted payments to the Royal Bank of Scotland. So I went to look at the two hotels. I found La Palm Hotel was some cleared land, some concrete foundations, and one eight room chalet without a roof. Coco Palm hotel didn’t exist at all. In a corner of the plot, four houses had been built by International Generics. As the housing market in Accra was very strong, these had been pre-sold, so none of the loan had gone into them.

I was astonished. The papers clearly showed that all £31.5 million had been fully disbursed by the Royal Bank of Scotland, against progress and completion certificates on the construction. But in truth there was virtually no construction. How could this have happened?

The Chief Executive of International Generics was an Israeli named Leon Tamman. He was a close friend to, and a front for, Mrs Rawlings. Tamman also had an architect’s firm, which had been signing off completion certificates for the non-existent work on the hotel. Almost all of the £30 million was simply stolen by Tamman and Mrs Rawlings.

The Royal Bank of Scotland had plainly failed in due diligence, having paid out on completion of two buildings, one not started and one only just started. But the Royal Bank of Scotland really couldn’t give a toss, because the repayments and interest were guaranteed by the British taxpayer. Indeed I seemed to be the only one who did care.

The Rawlings had put some of their share of this looted money towards payments on their beautiful home in Dublin. I wrote reports on all this back to London, and specifically urged the Serious Fraud Office to prosecute Tamman and Mrs Rawlings. I received the reply that there was no “appetite” in London for this.

Eventually La Palm did get built, but with over $60 million of new money taken this time from SSNIT, the Ghanaian taxpayers social security and pension fund. Coco Palm never did get built, but Tamman continued to develop it as a housing estate, using another company vehicle. Tamman has since died. The loans were definitively written off by the British government as part of Gordon Brown’s HIPC debt relief initiative.

That is but one example of a single scam, but it gives an insight into the way the country was looted. The unusual feature on this one was that the clever Mr Tamman found a way to cheat the British taxpayer, via Ghana. I still find it galling that the Royal Bank of Scotland also still got their profit, again from the British taxpayer.

So while the State Visit was intended as a reward to Jerry Rawlings for his conversion to democracy and capitalism, I had no illusions about Rawlings’ Ghana. I was determined that we should use the Queen’s visit to help ensure that Rawlings did indeed leave power in January 2001. According to the constitution, his second and final four year term as elected President expired then (if you politely ignored his previous decade as a military dictator). We should get the Queen to point him towards the exit.

Buckingham palace sent a team on an initial reconnaissance visit. It was led by an old friend of mine, Tim Hitchens, Assistant Private Secretary to the Queen, who had joined the FCO when I did. We identified the key features of the programme, which should centre around an address to Parliament. A walkabout might be difficult; Clinton had been almost crushed in Accra by an over-friendly crowd in a situation which got out of control. A school visit to highlight DFID’s work would provide the “meet the people” photo op, otherwise a drive past for the larger crowds. Key questions were identified as whether the Queen should visit Kumasi to meet Ghana’s most important traditional ruler, the Asantehene, and how she should meet the leader of the opposition, John Kufuor. Rawlings was likely to be opposed to both.

The recce visit went very well, and I held a reception for the team before they flew back to London. Several Ghanaian ministers came, and it ended in a very relaxed evening. Tim Hitchens commented that it was the first time he had ever heard Queen and Supertramp at an official function before. It turned out that we had very similar musical tastes.

Planning then took place at quite high intensity for several months. There were regular meetings with the Ghanaian government team tasked to organise the visit, headed by head of their diplomatic service Anand Cato, now Ghanaian High Commissioner to the United Kingdom. We then had to visit together all the proposed venues, and walk through the proposed routes, order of events, seating plans etc.

From the very first meeting between the two sides, held in a committee room at the International Conference Centre, it soon became obvious that we had a real problem with Ian Mackley. The High Commissioner had been very high-handed and abrupt with the visiting team from Buckingham Palace, so much so that Tim Hitchens had asked me what was wrong. I said it was just his manner. But there was more to it than that.

In the planning meetings, the set-up did not help the atmosphere. There were two lines of desks, facing each other. The British sat on one side and the Ghanaians on the other, facing each other across a wide divide. The whole dynamic was one of confrontation.

I have sat through some toe-curling meetings before, but that first joint State visit planning meeting in Accra was the worst. It started in friendly enough fashion, with greetings on each side. Then Anand Cato suggested we start with a quick run-through of the programme, from start to finish. “OK, now will the Queen be arriving by British Airways or by private jet?” asked Anand. “She will be on one of the VC10s of the Royal Flight” said Ian. “Right, that’s better. The plane can pull up to the stand closest to the VIP lounge. We will have the convoy of vehicles ready on the tarmac. The stairs will be put to the door, and then the chief of protocol will go up the stairs to escort the Queen and her party down the stairs, where there will be a small reception party…” “No, hang on there” interjected Ian Mackley, “I will go up the stairs before the chief of protocol.” “Well, it is customary for the Ambassador or High Commissioner to be in the receiving line at the bottom of the aircraft steps.” “Well, I can tell you for sure that the first person the Queen will want to see when she arrives in the country will be her High Commissioner.” “Well, I suppose you can accompany the chief up the steps if you wish…” “And my wife.” “Pardon?” “My wife Sarah. She must accompany me up the steps to meet the Queen.” “Look, it really isn’t practical to have that many people going on to an already crowded plane where people are preparing to get off…” “I am sorry, but I must insist that Sarah accompanies me up the stairs and on to the plane.” “But couldn’t she wait at the bottom of the steps?” “Absolutely not. How could she stand there without me?” “OK, well can we then mark down the question of greeting on the plane as an unresolved issue for the next meeting?” “Alright, but our side insists that my wife…” “Yes, quite. Now at the bottom of the steps Her Majesty will be greeted by the delegated minister, and presented with flowers by children.” “Please make sure we are consulted on the choice of children.” “If you wish. There will be national anthems, but I suggest no formal inspection of the Guard of Honour? Then traditional priests will briefly make ritual oblations, pouring spirits on the ground. The Queen will briefly enter the VIP lounge to take a drink.” “That’s a waste of time. Let’s get them straight into the convoy and off.” “But High Commissioner, we have to welcome a visitor with a drink. It is an essential part of our tradition. It will only be very brief.” “You can do what you like, but she’s not entering the VIP lounge. Waste of time.” “Let’s mark that down as another issue to be resolved. Now then, first journey…”

The meeting went on for hours and hours, becoming increasingly ill tempered. When we eventually got to the plans for the State Banquet, it all went spectacularly pear-shaped as it had been threatening to do. “Now we propose a top table of eight. There will be the President and Mrs Rawlings, Her Majesty and the Duke of Edinburgh, The Vice President and Mrs Mills, and Mr and Mrs Robin Cook.” Ian positively went purple. You could see a vein throbbing at the top left of his forehead. He spoke as though short of breath. “That is not acceptable. Sarah and I must be at the top table”. “With respect High Commissioner, there are a great many Ghanaians who will feel they should be at the top table. As we are in Ghana, we feel we are being hospitable in offering equal numbers of British and Ghanaians at the top table. But we also think the best plan is to keep the top table small and exclusive.” “By all means keep it small,” said Ian, “but as High Commissioner I must be on it.” “So what do you suggest?” asked Anand. “Robin Cook” said Ian “He doesn’t need to be on the top table.” I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Neither could Anand. “I don’t think you are being serious, High Commissioner” he said. “I am entirely serious” said Ian. “I outrank Robin Cook. I am the personal representative of a Head of State. Robin Cook only represents the government.”

I decided the man had taken leave of his senses. I wondered at what stage can you declare your commanding officer mad and take over, like on The Cain Mutiny? Anand was obviously thinking much the same. “Perhaps I might suggest you seek instruction from headquarters on that one?” he asked. “Anyway, can we note that down as another outstanding item, and move on to…” I don’t know whether Ian secretly realised he had overstepped the mark, but he didn’t come to another planning meeting after that, leaving them to me and the very competent Second Secretary Mike Nithavrianakis.

The most difficult question of all was that of meeting the opposition. Eventually we got the agreement of Buckingham Palace and the FCO to say that, if the Queen were prevented from meeting the opposition, she wouldn’t come. But still the most we could get from Rawlings was that the leader of the opposition could be included in a reception for several hundred people at the International Conference Centre.

I had by now made good personal friends with several Ghanaian politicians. Among those who I could have a social drink with any time were, on the government side John Mahama, Minister of Information and Moses Asaga, Deputy Finance Minister, and on the opposition side John Kufuor, leader of the opposition, his colleagues Hackman Owusu-Agyemang, Shadow Foreign Minister, and Nana Akuffo-Addo, Shadow Attorney General.

In the International Conference Centre the precise route the Queen would take around the crowd was very carefully planned, so I was able to brief John Kufuor exactly where to stand to meet her, and brief the Queen to be sure to stop and chat with him. As he was the tallest man in the crowd, this was all not too difficult.

Once the Queen arrived and the visit started, everything happened in a three day blur of intense activity. Vast crowds turned out, and the Palace staff soon calmed down as they realised that the Queen could expect an uncomplicated and old fashioned reverence from the teeming crowds who were turning out to see “Our Mama”.

The durbar of chiefs in front of Parliament House was a riot of colour and noise. One by one the great chiefs came past, carried on their palanquins, preceded by their entourage, drummers banging away ferociously and the chiefs, laden down with gold necklaces and bangles, struggled to perform their energetic seated dances. Many of the hefty dancing women wore the cloth that had been created for the occasion, with a picture of the Queen jiggling about on one large breast in partnership with Jerry Rawlings jiving on the other, the same pairing being also displayed on the buttocks.

After the last of the chiefs went through, the tens of thousands of spectators started to mill everywhere and we had to race for the Royal convoy to get out through the crowds. Robin Cook had stopped to give an ad hoc interview to an extremely pretty South African television reporter. Mike Nithavrianakis tried to hurry him along but got a fierce glare for his pains. Eventually everyone was in their cars but Cook; the Ghanaian outriders were itching to start as the crowds ahead and around got ever denser.

But where was Cook? We delayed, with the Queen sitting in her car for two or three minutes, but still there was no sign of the Secretary of State or his staff getting into their vehicle. Eventually the outriders swept off; the crowds closed in behind and we had abandoned our dilettante Foreign Secretary. Having lost the protection of the convoy and being caught up in the crowds and traffic, it took him an hour to catch up.

Cook was an enigma. I had already experienced his famous lack of both punctuality and consideration when kept waiting to see him over the Sandline Affair. His behaviour now seemed to combine an attractive contempt for protocol with a goat-like tendency – would he have fallen behind to give a very bland interview to a male South African reporter? He was also breaking the tradition that the Foreign Secretary does not make media comments when accompanying the Queen.

When we returned to the Labadi Beach Hotel, there was to be further evidence of Cook’s view that the World revolved around him. He was interviewing FCO staff for the position of his new Private Secretary. Astonishingly, he had decided that it would best suit his itinerary to hold these interviews in Accra rather than London. One candidate, Ros Marsden, had an extremely busy job as Head of United Nations Department. Yet she had to give up three days work to fly to be interviewed in Accra, when her office was just round the corner from his in London. Other candidates from posts around the World had difficult journeys to complete to get to Accra at all. I thought this rather outrageous of Cook, and was surprised nobody else seemed much concerned.

The port town of Tema, linked to Accra by fifteen miles of motorway and fast becoming part of a single extensive metropolis, sits firmly on the Greenwich Meridian. As far as land goes, Tema is the centre of the Earth, being the closest dry spot to the junction of the Equator and the Greenwich Meridian. You can travel South from Tema over 6,000 miles across sea until you hit the Antarctic.

There was in 1999 a particular vogue for linking the Greenwich Meridian with the Millennium. This was because of the role of the meridian in determining not just longitude but time. Of course, the two are inextricably linked with time initially used to calculate longitude. That is why Greenwich hosted both the Naval Academy and the Royal Observatory.

The fascination with all this had several manifestations. There was a BBC documentary travelogue down the Greenwich meridian. There was a best-selling book about the invention of naval chronometers, Longitude by Dava Sobel, which I read and was as interesting as a book about making clocks can be. There were a number of aid projects down the meridian, including by War Child and Comic Relief. Tema and Greenwich became twin towns. And there was the visit of the Duke of Edinburgh to Tema.

I think this was the idea of my very good friend John Carmichael, who was involved in charity work on several of the meridian projects. It was thought particularly appropriate as one of the Duke of Edinburgh’s titles is Earl of Greenwich – though the man has so many titles you could come up with some connection to pretty well anywhere. We could make it a new game, like six degrees of separation. Connect your home town to the Duke of Edinburgh.

Anyway, Tim Hitchens had warned me that the Duke was very much averse to just looking at things without any useful purpose. As we stood looking at the strip of brass laid in a churchyard which marks the line of the meridian, he turned to me and said: “A line in the ground, eh? Very nice.”

But we moved on to see a computer centre that had been set up by a charity to give local people experience of IT and the internet (providing both electricity and phone lines were working, which thank goodness they were today) and the Duke visibly cheered up. He was much happier talking to the instructors and students, and then when we went on to a primary school that had received books from DFID he was positively beaming. The genuinely warm reception everywhere, with happy gaggles of people of all ages cheerfully waving their little plastic union jacks, would have charmed anybody.

We returned to Accra via the coast road and I was able to point out the work of the Ghanaian coffin makers, with coffins shaped and painted as tractors, beer bottles, guitars, desks, cars and even a packet of condoms. The Prince laughed heartily, and we arrived at the Parliament building in high good spirits. There he was first shown to a committee room where he was introduced to senior MPs of all parties. “How many Members of Parliament do you have?” he asked. “Two hundred” came the answer. “That’s about the right number,” opined the Prince, “We have six hundred and fifty MPs, and most of them are a complete bloody waste of time.”

The irony was that there was no British journalist present to hear this, as they had all thought a meeting between Prince Philip and Ghanaian parliamentarians would be too boring. There were Ghanaian reporters present, but the exchange didn’t particularly interest them. So a front page tabloid remark, with which the accompanying photo could have made a paparazzi a lot of money, went completely unreported.

On a State Visit, the media cannot each be at every occasion, as security controls mean they have to be pre-positioned rather than milling about while the event goes ahead. So by agreement, those reporters and photographers accredited to the visit share or pool their photos and copy. At each event there is a stand, or pool. Some events may have more than one pool to give different angles. Each journalist can probably make five or six pools in the course of the visit, leapfrogging ahead of the royal progress. But everyone gets access to material from all the pools. The FCO lays on the transport to keep things under control. Organising the pool positions ahead of the event with the host country, and then herding and policing the often pushy media in them, is a major organisational task. Mike Nithavrianakis had carried it off with style and only the occasional failure of humour. But he had found no takers for Prince Philip in parliament, which proved to be fortunate for us.

I should say that I found Prince Philip entirely pleasant while spending most of this day with him. I am against the monarchy, but it was not created by the Queen or Prince Philip. Just as Colonel Isaac of the RUF was a victim of the circumstances into which he was born, so are they. Had I been born into a life of great privilege, I would probably have turned out a much more horrible person than they are.

Prince Philip then joined the Queen in the parliamentary chamber. Her address to parliament was to be the focal point of the visit. I had contributed to the drafting of her speech, and put a lot of work into it. The speech was only six minutes long (she never speaks longer than that, except at the State Opening of Parliament. Her staff made plain that six minutes was an absolute maximum.) It contained much of the usual guff about the history of our nations and the importance of a new future based upon partnership. But then she addressed Rawlings directly, praising his achievements in bringing Ghana on to the path of democracy and economic stability. The government benches in parliament provided an undercurrent of parliamentary “hear hears”.

But there was to be a sting in the tale: “Next, year, Mr President,” the Queen intoned, “You will step down after two terms in office in accordance with your constitution.” The opposition benches went wild. The Queen went on to wish for peaceful elections and further progress, but it was drowned out by the cries of “hear hear” and swishing of order papers from the benches, and loud cheers from the public gallery. There were mooted cries of “No” from the government side of the chamber.

I had drafted that phrase, and it had a much greater effect than I possibly hoped for, although I did mean it to drive home the message exactly as it was taken.

For a moment the Queen stopped. She looked in bewilderment and concern at the hullabaloo all around her. The Queen has no experience of speaking to anything other than a hushed, respectful silence. But, apart from some grim faces on the government benches, it was a joyful hullabaloo and she ploughed on the short distance to the end of her speech.

Once we got back to the Labadi Beach Hotel, Robin Cook was completely furious. He stormed into the makeshift Private Office, set up in two hotel rooms. “It’s a disaster. Who the Hell drafted that?” “Err, I did, Secretary of State” I said. “Is that you, Mr Murray! I might have guessed! Who the Hell approved it.” “You did.” “I most certainly did not!” “Yes you did, Secretary of State. You agreed the final draft last night.”

His Private Secretary had to dig out the copy of the draft he had signed off. He calmed down a little, and was placated further when the Queen’s robust press secretary, Geoff Crawford, said that he took the view that it was a good thing for the Queen to be seen to be standing up for democracy. It could only look good in the UK press. He proved to be right.

The State Banquet was a rather dull affair. Ian Mackley’s great battle to be on the top table proved rather nugatory as, in very Ghanaian fashion, nobody stayed in their seat very long and people were wandering all over the shop. There were a large number of empty seats as, faced with an invitation to dinner at 7.30pm, many Ghanaians followed their customary practice and wandered along an hour or so late, only to find they would not be admitted. This caused a huge amount of angst and aggravation, from which those of us inside were fortunately sheltered.

Mrs Rawlings had chosen a well known Accra nightclub owner named Chester to be the compère for the occasion. His bar is a relaxed spot in a small courtyard that features good jazz and highlife music, and prostitutes dressed as Tina Turner. It was a second home for the officers of the British Military Advisory and Training Team (BMATT).

Chester himself was friendly and amusing, but amusing in a Julian Clary meets Kenneth Williams meets Liberace sort of way. Chester says he is not gay, (regrettably homosexuality is illegal in Ghana) but his presentation is undeniably ultra camp. It is hard to think of a weirder choice to chair a state banquet, but Chester was a particular pet of Mrs Rawlings.

Chester was stood on the platform next to the Queen, gushing about how honoured he was. His speech was actually very witty, but the delivery was – well, Chester. I turned to Prince Philip and remarked: “You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen two Queens together before.” To give credit to Chester, I gather he has been telling the story ever since.

High camp was to be a theme of that evening.

Fiona and I accompanied the Royal party back to the Labadi Beach Hotel to say goodnight, after which Fiona returned home to Devonshire House while I remained for a debriefing on the day and review of the plans for tomorrow. By the time we had finished all that it was still only 11pm and I retired to the bar of the Labadi Beach with the Royal Household. The senior staff – Tim and Geoff – withdrew as is the custom, to allow the butlers, footmen, hairdressers and others to let off steam.

The party appeared, to a man, to be gay. Not just gay but outrageously camp. The Labadi Beach, with its fans whirring under polished dark wood ceilings, its panelled bar, displays of orchids, attentive uniformed staff and glossy grand piano – has the aura of a bygone colonial age, like something from Kenya’s Happy Valley in the 1930s. You expect to see Noel Coward emerge in his smoking jacket and sit down at the piano, smoking through a mother of pearl cigarette holder. It is exactly the right setting for a gay romp, and that is exactly what developed after a few of the Labadi Beach’s wonderful tropical cocktails.

We had taken the entire hotel for the Royal party, except that we had allowed the British Airways crew to stay there as always. Now three of their cabin stewards, with two Royal footmen and the Queen’s hairdresser, were grouped around the grand singing Cabaret with even more gusto than Liza. Other staff were smooching at the bar. All this had developed within half an hour in a really magical and celebratory atmosphere that seemed to spring from nothing. I was seated on a comfortable sofa, and across from me in an armchair was the one member of the Household who seemed out of place. The Duke of Edinburgh’s valet looked to be in his sixties, a grizzled old NCO with tufts of hair either side of a bald pate, a boxer’s nose and tattoos on his arms. He was smoking roll-ups.

He was a nice old boy and we had been struggling to hold a conversation about Ghana over the din, when two blokes chasing each other ran up to the settee on which I was sitting. One, pretending to be caught, draped himself over the end and said: “You’ve caught me, you beast!” I turned back to the old warrior and asked: “Don’t you find all this a bit strange sometimes?” He lent forward and put his hand on my bare knee below my kilt: “Listen, ducks. I was in the Navy for thirty years.”

So I made my excuses and left, as the News of the World journalists used to put it. I think he was probably joking, but there are some things that are too weird even for me, and the lower reaches of the Royal household are one of them. I have heard it suggested that such posts have been filled by gays for centuries, just as harems were staffed by eunuchs, to avoid the danger of a Queen being impregnated. Recently I have been most amused by news items regarding the death of the Queen Mother’s long-standing footman, who the newsreaders have been informing us was fondly known as “Backstairs Billy”. They manage to say this without giving the slightest hint that they know it is a double entendre.

The incident in parliament had made the Rawlings government even more annoyed about the proposed handshake in the International Conference Centre reception between the Queen and John Kufuor. My own relationship with Ian Mackley had also deteriorated still further as a result of the Royal Visit. I had the advantage that I already knew from previous jobs the palace officials and Robin Cook’s officials, and of course Robin Cook himself, not to mention the Queen and Duke of Edinburgh. All in all, I suspect that Ian felt that I was getting well above myself.

As the party formed up to walk around the reception in the International Conference Centre, Ian came up to me and grabbed my arm rather fiercely. “You, just stay with the Queen’s bodyguards” he said. I did not mind at all, and attached myself to another Ian, the head of the Queen’s close protection team. I already knew Ian also. Ian set off towards the hall and started ensuring a path was clear for the Queen, I alongside him as ordered. Suddenly I heard Sarah Mackley positively squeal from somewhere behind me: “My God, he’s ahead of the Queen! Now Craig’s ahead of the Queen.” If I could hear it, at least forty other people could. I managed to make myself as invisible as possible, and still to accomplish the introduction to John Kufuor. The government newspaper the Daily Graphic was to claim indignantly that I had introduced John Kufuor as “The next President of Ghana.” Had I done so, I would have been in the event correct in my prediction, but in fact I introduced him as “The opposition Presidential candidate”.

As always, the Queen’s last engagement on the State Visit was to say farewell to all the staff who had helped. She gives out gifts, and confers membership of the Royal Victorian Order on those deemed to merit it. Only once in the Queen’s long reign had she ever been on a state visit and not created our Ambassador or High Commissioner a Knight Commander of the Royal Victorian Order – that is to say, knighted him. Ian and Sarah were to become Sir Ian and Lady Sarah. This seemed to me to mean the world to them.

The day before, Tim Hitchens had turned to me as we were travelling in the car: “Craig, I take it your views on honours have not changed.” “No, Tim, I still don’t want any.” “Good, you see that makes it a bit easier, actually. You see, the thing is, we’re trying to cut down a bit on giving out routine honours. The government wants a more meritocratic honours system. We need to start somewhere. So, in short, Ian Mackley is not going to get his K.” I was stunned. Tim continued: “And as well, you see, it hasn’t exactly escaped our attention that he has … issues with the Ghanaians, and some of his attitudes didn’t exactly help the visit. Anyway, if you were to want your CVO, then that would be more difficult. Ian Mackley is going to have one of those. So that will be alright.”

No, it won’t be alright, I thought. You’ll kill the poor old bastard. For God’s sake, everyone will know.

I wondered when the decision had been taken. The kneeling stool and the ceremonial sword had definitely been unloaded from the plane and taken to the hotel: that was one of the things I had checked off. When had that decision been reached?

We were lined up in reverse order of seniority to go in and see the Queen and Prince Philip. I queued behind the Defence Attaché, with Ian and Sarah just behind me. She was entering as well – nobody else’s wife was – because she was expecting to become Lady Mackley. Tim was going to tell them quickly after I had entered, while they would be alone still waiting to go in.

You may not believe me, but I felt completely gutted for them. It was the very fact they were so status obsessed that made it so cruel. I was thinking about what Tim was saying to them and how they would react. It seemed terribly cruel that they had not been warned until the very moment before they were due to meet the Queen. I was so worried for them that I really had less than half my mind on exchanging pleasantries with the Queen, who was very pleasant, as always.

If you refused honours, as I always did, you got compensated by getting a slightly better present. In Warsaw I was given a silver Armada dish, which is useful for keeping your Armada in. In Accra I was given a small piece of furniture made with exquisite craftsmanship by Viscount Linley. Shelving my doubts about the patronage aspect of that (should the Queen be purchasing with public money official gifts made by her cousin?) I staggered out holding rather a large red box, leaving through the opposite side of the room to that I had entered. Outside the door I joined the happy throng of people clutching their presents and minor medals. Mike Nithavrianakis and Brian Cope were Ian Mackley’s friends, and they were waiting eagerly for him. “Here’s Craig” said Mike, “Now it’s only Sir Ian and Lady Sarah!” “No, it’s not, Mike”, I said, “He’s not getting a K” “What! You’re kidding!” It had suddenly fallen very silent. “Ian’s not getting a K, he’s only getting a CVO.” “Oh, that’s terrible.” We waited now in silence. Very quickly the door opened again, and the Mackleys came out, Ian with a frozen grin, Sarah a hysterical one beneath the white large-brimmed hat that suddenly looked so ridiculous. There was a smattering of applause, and Sarah fell to hugging everyone, even me. We all congratulated Ian on his CVO, and nobody ever mentioned that there had been any possibility of a knighthood, then or ever.

Personally I don’t understand why anyone accepts honours when there is so much more cachet in refusing them.

#prince phillip #prince phillip death #prince phillip is dead #craig murray #ghana

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