#tiling services london

[probuildrenewal]

You may renovate and restore your tiles by working with trustworthy and skilled professionals, making your room safe and useful in addition to being aesthetically pleasing.

[electricalserviceslondon01]

Electrical services London

Quality Construction, based in the UK, is your trusted source for professional electricians in London. Committed to excellence, our skilled team ensures safe, reliable, and high-quality electrical solutions for every project. For top-tier electrical services in the capital, choose Quality Construction. https://qualityconstructionlondon.co.uk/electrical-services-london/

[cricklewood1]

Best Waterproofing Services in London

In the realm of construction and home maintenance, the term “waterproofing services” stands as a sentinel against the silent invaders — water and moisture. As unassuming as it may sound, the significance of waterproofing goes far beyond mere protection; it safeguards the structural integrity of buildings, ensuring longevity and habitability. In this blog post, we delve into the world of waterproofing services, unveiling the critical role they play in maintaining the health and durability of our living spaces.

Understanding Waterproofing: Waterproofing is a systematic approach to prevent water infiltration into a building or structure. Whether it’s a residential home, commercial establishment, or an industrial facility, waterproofing services are the frontline defense against the potentially destructive effects of water. The primary goal is to create a barrier that shields the building from water penetration, thereby mitigating the risks of structural damage, mold growth, and other water-related issues.

Types of Waterproofing Services: Basement Waterproofing: One of the most vulnerable areas in a building is its basement. Basement waterproofing involves applying protective measures to the foundation walls and floor to prevent water seepage. This is crucial in averting structural damage and maintaining a dry and usable space. Roof Waterproofing: A leaky roof can spell disaster for any structure. Roof waterproofing involves the application of specialized coatings or membranes to protect the roof from rain, snow, and other environmental factors. This not only prevents water damage but also contributes to energy efficiency by insulating the building. Exterior Wall Waterproofing: Exterior walls are constantly exposed to the elements, making them susceptible to water infiltration. Waterproofing these walls involves applying coatings or sealants to create a barrier against moisture, ensuring the longevity of the building’s facade. Foundation Waterproofing: The foundation is the backbone of any structure, and waterproofing it is paramount. This process typically involves the installation of a waterproof membrane or coating to protect the foundation from soil moisture and groundwater.

Importance of Waterproofing Services: Structural Integrity: Water infiltration can compromise the structural integrity of a building over time. Waterproofing services act as a preventive measure, ensuring that the core structure remains robust and resilient against the corrosive effects of water. Mold Prevention: Moisture is a breeding ground for mold and mildew, which not only poses health risks but can also lead to significant damage to the building’s materials. Waterproofing services create an environment that is inhospitable to mold growth, promoting a healthy living or working space. Longevity of Building Materials: Exposure to water can accelerate the deterioration of building materials. Waterproofing services protect materials such as wood, concrete, and metal from the corrosive effects of moisture, contributing to the longevity of the structure.

Conclusion: In the intricate dance between man-made structures and the forces of nature, waterproofing services emerge as the unsung heroes. From the basement to the roof, these services play a pivotal role in safeguarding our homes and buildings from the relentless assault of water. As we navigate the challenges of construction and maintenance, let us not underestimate the importance of these guardians of dryness, ensuring that our living spaces stand strong and resilient against the test of time.

[magic-restores]

Why Your Floor Needs Ceramic Tiles Repairs: Learn Here

Holding on to memories is good. But we can’t say the same thing about your old floor. We understand that with time passing by, we all start developing an emotional connection with the construction of our homes. And it goes the same for the floor as well. We love the faded colours of the wall for all the nostalgic moments it has witnessed with the residents. However, for safety reasons, you have to do a repair session for your old tiles. You must hire a reputed service, Ceramic Tiles Repairs London, to repair the old and worn-down floor tiles of a residential or commercial building.

Why you should repair an old floor:

Tile repair can be problematic for several reasons. Often, people recognize later that their floor needs a repair service. And sometimes, the issues lie in the installation. In many cases, when people find out the issues in their floor, it already exceeds the time of repairing. After that, you have to replace the entire floor.

However, there’s still an option to repair your floor tiles. When there are only a few cracks, or minor damage appears on the surface, you can then call for a London surfaces repairs specialist and give your space a new look.

Here we have mentioned a few issues that lead to floor repair service.

Tenting –

If you notice that tiles come up or lift up from the floor, then it requires some repair service. It generally happens due to thermal expansion. Especially when the room heats up, the expansion of ceramic tiles gets slower expansion. The difference in the rate of expansion between the two causes the tiles to lift up. Tenting is very common for newly installed tiles.

Chips and Cracks –

Chips and cracks are very common to see on the tiles. Over time, the damage appears on the surface. It happens even after a proper installation. It mostly looks like hairlines, and many times these are quite hard to identify. 

Subfloor Water Damage—

Well, water brings a lot of damage to floors and walls. It is often a major cause of dampening floor tiles. If you find a leak in the plumbing system which goes unnoticed for years or months, the tiles start soaking the water. In that case, you should check with an expert to determine the damage. When you have damaged subfloors, replacing your tiles is imminent.

Final words:

Repairing floors can be expensive and a lengthy project if you can’t find a good contractor. Magic Restore offers cost-effective services on Ceramic Tiles Repairs London. We have an expert team of experienced craftsmen who can manage to repair different damages done to a floor. Be it hairline cracks or water damage, we can effectively repair the damage and bring back the glory of your floor. We use advanced technology to fix the issues on an old floor or on a few floors damaged through improper installation. Visit our website to learn about other services we offer.

[ty-loves]

Briarwood Mortuary🕊️🪦

The Briarwood Mortuary is owned & operated by the Briar Family of Brindleton Bay. This longstanding mortuary & cemetery is the resting place of many of Brindleton Bay's most coveted citizens. This lot can be used to lay your sims to rest peacefully, host a funeral service, or even have a wedding in the cemetery.  

Gallery ID: ty_loves415 (✅include custom content to find builds)

Information: 

30x30 lot

$319,543

 Functions as: Generic, Wedding Venue, or Museum lot

CC Used:

Asabinsims | Real Trees for build mode (1) 

Alf-si | Birch Trees (1),

Magnoliidae | Leafy Ground Cover plant recolor (1)

TheJim07 | Gravestone & Mortuary ts3 (1), Mater Dolorosa (1), Winged Victory of Samothrace (1)

Felixandre | Estate (2), (1), (3), Paris (2), (1), Chateau (2), (5), (6), Berlin (2), (1), London (1), Gothic Revival (2), (1), Grove (4), Fayun (2), (1), Florence (2), (1), Soho (1)

Pinkbox AnYe | Venice (1), Summer Garden (1), (2), Bayfront Powder room (1),  Miranda (1), Cozy Corner (1), Magnolia (1), Ashwood Dining (1)

SYB | Ratatouille Kitchen (1), Hotel (1), Piano (1)

Valia | Mediterranean columns (1)

Lilis Palace | Folklore Skanzen (5), Intarsia Enfilade (1)

Plush Pixels | Parisian Apartment (1), Summer in the Hamptons (2)

Max20 | Garden at Home (1)

Pierisim | Domaine du Clos (2), (1), Auntie Vera’s Bathroom Toilet (1), Winter Garden (1), Woodland Ranch Old Rug (1)

Harrie | Coastal (2), (8), Copenhagen (1), Brutalist Bathroom Tiles (1)

PsychicPeanutKitty | Ghost w/ a Lantern (1)

KHD | Noor Set (1), Ghibli (2), Liberty (1), Countess Desk & Chair (1)

Severinka | Halloween 2018 (1)

Sims4Luxury | Fall 2023 Pumpkins (1)

Myshunosun | Herbalist Clutter (1)

Natalia-Auditore | Baron Samedi Coffins (1)

CWB | Anapolis Wall Light (1), October 2022 (1)

HYDRA | Heart Vanity (1)

Sooky88 | Vertical Oil Paintings (1)

PandoraSimBox | Get to Church Stuff Pack Pulpit (1) LittleDica | Countryside Cabin Roof Trim (1)

*Packs Used: Lovestruck (benches), Cottage Living, City Living, Get Together, Jungle Adventure GP, Romantic Garden Stuff, Paranormal Stuff Extras & TOU: 

Please do not reupload or claim my build as your own

Please do feel free to tag me if you use this build <3

Always use bb.moveobjects when placing

Reshade by YoursTrulySims

Leave a comment here if you have any issues

Thank you all cc creators <3

All trees used in this build are CC, not defaults.  

@asabinsims @felixandresims @pinkbox-anye @alf-si @sooky88 @pierisim @lilis-palace @myshunosun @kerriganhouse @harrie-cc @sims4luxury @psychicpeanutkitty @valiasims @maxsus @littledica @hydrangeachainsaw @nataliaauditore-blog @syboubou @thejim07 @magnoliidae @plushpixelssims

[stephensmithuk]

Charles Augustus Milverton

Published in 1904, this forms part of the Return collection.

Most chroniclers put this in 1899.

Milverton is seemingly inspired by Charles Augustus Howell, an art dealer and alleged blackmailer, who died in strange circumstances in 1890: https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Charles_Augustus_Howell

Hampstead is located four miles NW of Charing Cross. Known for attracting a lot of artistic and intellectual people, it has some very expensive houses and a lot of millionaires. Notable residents past and present are numerous indeed, including Sting, Agatha Christie, Emilia Clarke, Muhammed Ali Jinnah, Florence Nightingale.

The area had began to expand with the arrival of what is now known as the North London line of London Overground, which operated services into Broad Street until that station closed in 1986. The now-Northern Line would reach there in 1907 and Hampstead station, beneath a steep hill has the deepest platforms on the Tube, at 192 feet below street level. The station also is one of those designed by Leslie Green, with the distinctive oxblood red tiles he liked to use on the outside.

The "Evil One" is an archaic term for the Devil.

Débutantes seem to have typically been 17 or 18.

"Lady" is a courtesy title for the daughters of dukes, marquesses and earls.

Mr. Pickwick refers to the titular character of Charles Dickens' The Pickwick Papers, originally serialised in 19 parts between 1836 and 1837. It might be good for a mailing group.

With telephones going through human-operated exchanges and telegrams being rather expensive, letters were the most secure way of sending romantic messages. Unless the servants got hold of them. Notably, all the correspondence from Queen Victoria to her Indian teacher Abdul Karim was burnt after her death on the orders of Edward VII.

£7,000 would be around £740,000 at today's prices.

Astrakhan are the pelts of fetal or newborn Karakul sheep. So, yeah...

Revolvers were the normal handguns at the time. Self-loading semi-automatics had just begun to enter the scene in large numbers, with the Mauser C96 (aka Han Solo's blaster) available by 1899.

Hampstead Heath is a 790-acre park with views over the city centre from Parliament Hill that are legally protected. The "bloofer lady" scene from Dracula takes place there and a number of movies, such as Notting Hill have filmed there.

The Heath also was - and still is - a popular location for gay men to engage in "cruising" i.e. anonymous hookups, or just hang out. The locals know which bits to avoid at night and these days the police are tolerant unless someone complains, although fines were issued for lockdown breaches. (Public sex is legal if no-one not involved sees it or is likely to, unless in a public toilet)

In the past, it was a very different matter and a Tory MP had to resign his seat in 1992 after being caught on the Heath with another man.

"Court dress" was the regulated outfits worn when attending the British royal court at the time for those not entitled to a uniform. This included wearing breeches and stockings for men, along with a cocked hat. For women this included a white or cream evening gown with lace. It fell somewhat out of use after the Second World War with the 1953 Coronation being the last occasion it was worn in large numbers, However, it is still worn by judges, King's Counsel (senior lawyers) and some Lord Mayors - the royals will wear it sometimes as well. A 1921 guide can be found here: https://archive.org/details/dressinsigniawor00greauoft/page/n113/mode/2up

[ollieofthebeholder]

And If Thou Wilt, Forget: a TMA Fanfic

Read from the beginning on Tumblr || AO3 || My Website

Chapter 13: Come home across the desolate sea

[CLICK]

[SOUNDS OF A BUSTLING AIRPORT - CROWDS IN THE BACKGROUND, PERIODIC ANNOUNCEMENTS IN MULTIPLE LANGUAGES, OBNOXIOUS MUSIC PLAYING FAINTLY FROM SOMEWHERE]

GERRY

Finally. They’re almost done loading that group.

TIM

Nope, look, see those people charging over? Definitely Group B running late. We’ll have to wait for them.

GERRY

Just out of idle curiosity, purely rhetorical you understand, but is there any way we could maybe get on the plane faster next time?

TIM

We could always try breaking your leg.

[GERRY LAUGHS]

Or I guess I could book our next flight business class. It is work related. Might be able to get compensated for that. I’d love to see the look on Elias’s face when Gertrude sends him that bill.

GERRY

I don’t necessarily need to board first. You know, less time to sit around strapped into the Great Floating Temptation.

TIM

(Amused) You know the plane doesn’t take off just because we’ve got on it, right?

GERRY

Yeah, I know, it’s just…

(Surprised) You know, I never thought about that before. Mum didn’t fly much, we mostly took trains—cheaper and she could get off somewhere that struck her fancy if she wanted to—and Gertrude was always a lot more, uh, in a hurry than you are, so we were almost always running onto a plane that was about to close its doors and take off. I guess I just got so used to being the last one on the plane that I keep expecting it to take off right away.

Or at least not having to wait around in airport lounges for hours on end.

TIM

It’s been like thirty minutes.

GERRY

You okay?

TIM

Bit tight. I think I need to start cutting salt out of my diet.

GERRY

You know, if things swell when you go up in planes, maybe you should take that off for the flight.

TIM

I’m kind of afraid I’ll lose it. It’s fine, I’ll—

OVERHEAD TANNOY

Timothy Stoker, please report to the nearest white courtesy phone. Timothy Stoker, white courtesy phone.

GERRY

Huh?

TIM

…Weird.

Okay, be right back.

GERRY

Tim—

TIM

Don’t worry. There’s one right over there by the restrooms. I can see the gate, and I can hear the announcements, so if they do the final boarding call, I’ll drop it and run.

[HE STANDS UP, LEANS OVER, AND KISSES GERRY ON THE CHEEK]

Be nice to the flight attendants. Back in a flash.

[FOOTSTEPS ACROSS THE CARPET, THEN ACROSS TILE]

OVERHEAD TANNOY

Timothy Stoker, please report to the nearest white courtesy phone. Timothy Stoker, white courtesy phone.

TIM

Yeah, yeah, I’ve got it. (mutters) Should pick up the red one just to be contrary.

[PHONE LIFTS FROM RECEIVER]

Hello, Tim Stoker speaking.

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

Tim. When does your plane leave?

TIM

(Surprised) Gertrude?

[THE RADIO SQUEALS SLIGHTLY FROM ACROSS THE AISLE]

GATE ATTENDANT (OVER RADIO)

Now boarding Group D for flight 9543.

TIM

Uh—in like five minutes or so. We’re boarding now. Why, do you need us to stay?

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

No. I need you back in London.

TIM

(Instantly serious) Hold on. He’s getting on now, but if I hurry—

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

No need for quite that level of haste. Not yet, anyway. Get to—where are you heading?

TIM

Çukurova. Turkey. There’s a—never mind.

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

Can you get back to London from there?

TIM

I think so. The direct route is only seasonal service, but if nothing else we ought to be able to get a connection out of Istanbul. Or we can not pick up our connection.

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

There’s a very steep fee for that. Just turn around in Çukurova and come back.

Make sure you ask for the fastest route, not necessarily the first plane out.

TIM

…

(Quietly) It’s happening, then? The Unknowing?

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

Not yet. It’s the Extinguished Sun.

TIM

The Dark? Where?

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

Here. In a sense.

I’ll explain everything when you arrive. Once you get back to London—

(Suddenly tense) Wait a moment.

GATE ATTENDANT (OVER RADIO)

This is the last call for Flight 9543 to Istanbul. Last call for boarding.

TIM

Shit—Gertrude, I’ve got to go. I’ll text you from Istanbul.

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

Wait—

TIM

Gotta go!

[PHONE DROPS CARELESSLY INTO THE CRADLE AND DOESN’T QUITE HANG UP]

[FOOTSTEPS HURRYING ACROSS THE AISLE]

GERTRUDE (ON PHONE)

(Faintly) Tim? Tim! They’re calling for a heavy fog in—Tim!

[CLICK]

—

[CLICK]

[FOOTSTEPS ECHOING THROUGH A TUNNEL]

JURGEN LEITNER

You’re certain this will work?

GERTRUDE

Yes, Jurgen, I’m certain.

JURGEN LEITNER

I just don’t understand why you’re so insistent on it being tomorrow. Why not right now?

GERTRUDE

In the first place, because…Elias will be paying attention tonight. I can keep him out of my head for the most part, but I can’t guard the whole Archives, and there’s too much of a chance of being observed. Tomorrow he’ll be distracted.

[A LONG PAUSE, PUNCTUATED ONLY BY THE ECHOING FOOTSTEPS]

JURGEN LEITNER

And in the second place?

GERTRUDE

Hmm?

JURGEN LEITNER

You said that “in the first place”, Elias would be distracted. That implies you had a second reason.

GERTRUDE

I do.

[ANOTHER LONG PAUSE]

JURGEN LEITNER

…I…assume you were going to let me know what that reason is?

GERTRUDE

You assume incorrectly.

JURGEN LEITNER

Gertrude.

GERTRUDE

(Obviously mimicking his tone of voice) Jurgen.

JURGEN LEITNER

…Very well, then. Keep your secrets. You always do.

I’m sure there’s a perfectly good reason you can’t enact…whatever it is you’re planning to do beyond simply not wanting the head of the Magnus Institute to know what you’re up to. And it’s none of my business, I’m sure.

GERTRUDE

Thank you for being so reasonable and understanding.

[JURGEN LEITNER SIGHS IMPATIENTLY]

[FOOTSTEPS GRADUALLY SLOW, THEN STOP]

JURGEN LEITNER

Well. (Sighs again) I suppose we part ways here, then. Until tomorrow.

[FOOTSTEPS BEGIN TO WALK AWAY IN OPPOSITE DIRECTIONS. ONE SET SLOWS TO A HALT]

GERTRUDE

You didn’t ask about the third reason.

[SOUNDS OF FEET SCREECHING TO A STOP]

JURGEN LEITNER

What?

GERTRUDE

I gave you my first reason. You asked if I had a second reason, and I said yes, but that it was none of your concern.

You never asked if there were more than two reasons.

JURGEN LEITNER

I had assumed that—

Ah.

GERTRUDE

You ought to know better by now.

JURGEN LEITNER

Yes. I suppose I ought to.

(Sighs a third time) Fine. What other reasons do you have for waiting?

GERTRUDE

The People’s Church of the Divine Host.

JURGEN LEITNER

Reyner’s cult? What about it?

GERTRUDE

Jurgen.

JURGEN LEITNER

(Attempting to match her tone) Gertrude.

…Wait. The Extinguished Sun? They’re—that’s tomorrow?

GERTRUDE

Yes.

It appears they plan for tomorrow’s sundown to be the final one.

JURGEN LEITNER

My God.

So why wait until then to destroy the Institute? However you plan to do that.

GERTRUDE

I told you, I will give you the details—

JURGEN LEITNER

—when they become relevant, yes. I know how you operate by now, Gertrude.

GERTRUDE

(Under her breath) Do you really?

JURGEN LEITNER

That does not answer my question. Why not take care of…this, and then worry about the Dark and its ritual tomorrow?

GERTRUDE

You mean, why is the fact that the ritual is yet to come one of my reasons for delaying?

JURGEN LEITNER

…I suppose that’s a more exact way of putting it.

After all, you did say Elias would be distracted…ah.

GERTRUDE

Precisely.

He’s interested in my methods of stopping the rituals. I suspect he has a good reason for that.

JURGEN LEITNER

Because if he becomes interested in a Beholding ritual, he wants to know how you might stop it so he can work around that.

GERTRUDE

…

Broadly, yes.

I intend to use that. Lay my groundwork, incite the Institute’s destruction, while he’s distracted. Hopefully he’ll go out with it.

JURGEN LEITNER

Will you have time to disrupt the Extinguished Sun afterwards?

GERTRUDE

I should have more than enough time to do what needs to be done.

[SEVERAL LONG BEATS OF SILENCE]

JURGEN LEITNER

…After all this time, I don’t know why I still expect more.

GERTRUDE

(Dryly) A mystery that may never be solved.

[CLICK]

—

[CLICK]

[RUMBLE OF AN AIRPLANE’S ENGINE, MURMUR OF VOICES, RATTLE OF A CART WITH SQUEAKY WHEEL]

FLIGHT ATTENDANT

What are you drinking, sir?

GERRY

Just water for me, thanks.

TIM

I’ll take a ginger ale, please.

[RATTLE OF ICE IN A CUP, POP AND FIZZ OF A SODA CAN OPENING, GURGLE OF LIQUID GOING INTO THE CUP]

FLIGHT ATTENDANT

Here you are, gentlemen. Enjoy.

TIM/GERRY

Thank you.

[SEVERAL LONG MOMENTS OF SILENCE, PUNCTUATED ONLY BY SIPPING]

GERRY

Stomach bothering you?

TIM

Nervous. The ginger’s helping the anxiety.

GERRY

(Dryly) First time?

TIM

No, I’ve been nervous before.

[GERRY GROANS]

GERRY

Walked right into that one, didn’t I?

TIM

I thought that was a deliberate setup.

GERRY

I’m not that clever.

Seriously. What’s bothering you?

TIM

Apart from the obvious?

GERRY

You mean the fact that we’re in a pressurized tube thirty-seven thousand miles above the planet’s surface held aloft by magic, fortune, and prayer that runs a distinct risk of drawing the attention of something that wants to keep us here forever?

TIM

I rather suspect you’re not fond of flying, Gerry.

GERRY

(Fervently) I can think of at least three dozen ways I’d rather die.

TIM

It’s not that dangerous. Comparatively.

No, actually, I’m just…worrying about whether we’re going to get back on time.

GERRY

If all goes well.

TIM

Yeah, that’s what I’m worrying about.

[SHORT PAUSE]

GERRY

You reckon we should have tried to find a flight out of Istanbul the first time we were there? Just dealt with the cancellation fees or whatever?

TIM

I mean, hell, we had a long enough layover. If there’d been a faster option, I’d have taken it in a heartbeat. There just…wasn’t one.

GERRY

Know that for a fact, do you?

TIM

Yeah, I looked the flights up.

[GERRY HUMS SKEPTICALLY]

Besides, when Gertrude called the airport in Prague, she specifically told me not to do that. She said it wasn’t that urgent.

I’m just not sure I believe her, that’s all.

GERRY

What did she say when you texted her about our flight back?

TIM

She didn’t answer. I know she saw it, but…

I suppose she’s busy. I mean, she’s probably getting all her ducks in a row, so to speak. But the fact that she ordered us home…

GERRY

…means she needs the backup.

TIM

…

You know? I don’t think that’s it.

I think she just wants to know where we are.

GERRY

What do you mean?

TIM

I mean that if she really needed us to help stop this thing, she’d have told us where to meet her specifically. As it is, I think she just wants us back in London so that she knows if this goes wrong, we aren’t caught out somewhere and unable to get back.

GERRY

Assuming there’s a “back” to get back to.

TIM

They’re remaking the world, not destroying it.

There would still be an England in a changed world. Still be a London. It would just be…plunged into eternal darkness, I guess? I dunno what a world that’s fitted for the Forever Blind would look like. But it’s got to exist.

GERRY

Sure of that, are you?

TIM

They exist on fear, right? What good is a world with nothing to feel fear in it?

And at this point, they’ve probably adapted so that they’re more satiated by human fear than animal. At least most of them have. I don’t know how much these things actually feel, or think or whatever, and I know damn well most of them aren’t big on foresight, but I can’t imagine they would create a world designed to let them starve.

GERRY

(Quietly) I just wish I knew more about what this ritual looks like, that’s all.

TIM

I’m hoping she’ll tell us when we get there. I—

[FAINT GRINDING NOISE]

GERRY

What was that?

TIM

It’s okay, Ger. If it were a problem, the captain would—

[CRACKLE OF THE OVERHEAD RADIO]

Ah.

CAPTAIN (ON RADIO)

Ladies and gentlemen, we are experiencing slight difficulties with our starboard engine.

GERRY

(High-pitched) What?!

TIM

Shh.

CAPTAIN (ON RADIO)

We will be making an emergency landing in Frankfurt. To that end, I am turning on the seatbelt sign.

[PLEASANT, LOW-TONED DING]

[SOUNDS OF SEVERAL SEATBELTS CLICKING INTO PLACE]

Please remain calm and remain seated, with your trays in an upright and closed position, and we will be at Frankfort Airport shortly.

[CLACK OF RADIO SHUTTING OFF]

[GERRY BEGINS BREATHING RAPIDLY]

TIM

Gerry. Gerry, shh, it’s okay, it’s going to be okay.

Here, have some ginger ale.

GERRY

I fucking hate flying, Tim.

TIM

(Gently and calmly) I know. I know.

It’s okay. We’ll take the train home from Frankfurt.

GERRY

(Acidly) You’re not worried about it being too late?

TIM

I’ll call when we land and find out.

At this point, Gerry, I think that’s out of our hands.

[CLICK]

—

[CLICK]

[SOUNDS OF A BUSTLING TRAIN STATION—CROWDS MURMURING, WHISTLES BLOWING, WHEELS SCREECHING]

[FOOTSTEPS ON TILE]

GERRY

Hey. Sorry about that, the line for the restroom was insane. We must not be the only people with the same idea.

TIM

(A little distractedly) With the weather, it’s probably faster for a lot of people than flying.

GERRY

Yeah, maybe. Think we’ll be able to get on the next train?

TIM

Change of plans. I finally heard back from Gertrude.

GERRY

False alarm? She doesn’t need us after all?

TIM

I don’t think that’s it. She’s just changing where she wants us to meet her.

GERRY

Let me guess. Istanbul? If she want us to backtrack, I’m going to kill her.

TIM

No, the Faroe Islands.

GERRY

What? Why?

TIM

Apparently, it’s as far north as we can get without flying.

Or, you know, at all. There’s no passenger service to Svalbard.

GERRY

Do I want to know why she wants us to go that far north? In March?

TIM

Probably because it’s one of the only places the total solar eclipse will be visible.

GERRY

…Fuck. How did I miss there was going to be an eclipse?

TIM

I mean, we’ve been kind of busy.

GERRY

You think that’s…

TIM

A key part of their ritual? Almost certainly. What better time to bring on a world of eternal darkness than when things are literally as dark as they can get?

GERRY

And yet we still don’t know what this is going to look like?

TIM

Or not look like, as the case may be. Forever Blind, remember?

GERRY

Yeah, yeah, real funny.

[TIM CHUCKLES]

Did she say anything helpful, or just to go to the Faroe Islands?

TIM

(Reading aloud from his phone) “Head to the Faroe Islands. Get as far north as you can. Wait there for the eclipse. Watch and observe. I will be working in London. If I don’t meet you there, or otherwise contact you, once the eclipse ends, come back to the Institute.”

That’s all we’ve got.

GERRY

So when’s the eclipse?

TIM

Friday, which means we’ve got time. Lucky thing. We won’t get to Hirtshals until tomorrow morning, and from there it’s a thirty-seven hour ferry ride to the Faroe Islands, and probably another hour to Viðareiði.

GERRY

To where?

TIM

It’s the northernmost settlement in the Faroe Islands.

GERRY

Seriously, how do you know that?

TIM

I used to collect factoids about all kinds of extreme locations in Europe. Northernmost, southernmost, hottest, coldest, highest, lowest, you name it. I was going to visit them all someday.

GERRY

Well, we can scratch this one off your list, I guess. Did you already get our tickets?

TIM

No, my German is rubbish. I was waiting for you.

GERRY

Hmm. Glad to know there are limits to your vast knowledge.

[TIM LAUGHS]

Come on, then. Let’s go save the world.

[CLICK]

—

[CLICK]

[LONG, SLOW DRAGGING SOUND, LIKE SOMETHING INCREDIBLY HEAVY IS BEING PULLED ACROSS A STONE FLOOR]

[SOFT GRUNTING NOISE]

ELIAS

(Muttering) Perhaps I ought to have used a wheeled office chair for this. Or one of the library carts.

Although I suppose the steps would have been even more difficult.

[DEEP BREATH]

[LOOOOOOOOOOONG DRAG]

ELIAS

(Strained) You’re heavier than you look.

I think I understand the term dead weight now.

[SMALL GRUNT]

[CHAIR SCRAPES SLIGHTLY ACROSS A STONE FLOOR]

[HUFF OF RELIEF]

[SEVERAL MOMENTS OF SILENCE]

ELIAS

I’m sure you’re wondering why I bothered.

(Considers) Well, I’m not sure you’re aware of much, but…I rather hope you are.

At any rate. It certainly would have been easier to leave you where you were. Slumped across your desk, your heart’s blood seeping into the wood and the statements beneath…surrounded by petrol and a lighter. One could make a compelling argument that you surprised an intruder, who shot you, then ran in fear before starting the fire they so clearly intended to set.

But I’m afraid you don’t get easy answers like that.

No. I am going to leave you here, along with all of your tapes. I am going to clean up any traces of a trail I may have left. I am going to clean the petrol from the floor—oh, you’re surprised by that, aren’t you? Surprised I’m willing to do that much work? Well, I admit it’s not my preference, but I can hardly ask the cleaning staff to do it without revealing why it needs to be done. At any rate, I will clean up the mess.

I think I’ll leave the bloodstain on your desk, though. After all, we will need to have some sort of explanation for why I am forced to hire a new Archivist.

Oh, but why bother, I seem to hear you ask? Why go to all this trouble to conceal your death, if I am only going to replace you?

Well. It’s quite simple, Gertrude. And perhaps you know the answer already, but then again, you do sometimes miss the obvious. So, since there’s nothing you can do about it, I’m going to tell you.

I’m doing this for Tim.

[LOW, CRUEL, ECHOING LAUGHTER, GRADUALLY GROWING LOUDER AND LOUDER UNTIL IT FINALLY REACHES A FEVER PITCH]

[CLICK]

[lionofchaeronea]

One last Malta-related post to bore you all before I finally move on to other topics:

A favorite pastime of mine when I have the chance to travel is to search out small museums, ones that are "off the beaten path" and not thronged by tourists at every hour of the day. This has had some wonderful benefits--I'll never forget, for example, perusing the wax anatomical models at the Museo "La Specola" in Florence, or the Arabic decorative tiles at the Leighton House in London. In that tradition, I wanted to let you know that if you ever have the chance to visit Malta, do not miss the Malta Postal Museum.

I freely admit that I was unsure whether it would be worth the time: "A museum about the history of postage and the postal service? In a country with a population of half a million? Why bother?" I'm so glad I overcame my hesitations. The museum's stamp collection traces the entire modern history of the Maltese archipelago, from the very first halfpenny stamps issued early in Queen Victoria's reign to celebrations of the papal visits in the 2000s, and is fascinating in itself; but what really makes the museum worthwhile is its illustrated tour of how "the mail has gone through" under different occupiers (the Knights of St. John, the French, the British) and under the most trying of circumstances (naval blockade, plague outbreak, wartime censorship). Short, well-produced films help illuminate the many letters in the collection and don't shy away from some of the more unpalatable aspects of Maltese history, such as the British haste in June 1940 to intern anyone suspected of pro-Italian sympathies, a policy that (as so often in wartime) ran roughshod over civil liberties. More than just a history of the post, it's a unique window on the broader history of Malta, reminding us that even something as humdrum as delivering the mail on time can be an essential part of social infrastructure.

Anyway, I'll stop rambling now. But seriously, if you ever find yourself in Valletta, the Malta Postal Museum should definitely be on your itinerary.

[dartmoorsfinest]

Inside Josh Widdicombe’s home with butcher shop tiles and a £6,000 bath (The Sunday Times, 10.11.24)

The comedian’s interior designer wife, Rose Hanson, has restored an 1860s house with copper pipes, vintage finds and lots of books.

[NON-PAYWALL / ORIGINAL]

The comedian Josh Widdicombe and Rose Hanson, his interior designer wife, have restored a 19th-century former artist’s house in the village of Mullion, on the Lizard. The star of Channel 4’s The Last Leg is in the process of writing gags for his 2025 stand-up tour. Called Not My Cup of Tea, because he gave up alcohol last year and now drinks eight cups of “builder’s tea” a day, the show will be a catalogue of gentle gripes on topics from motorway services to children’s party bags. He says inspiration strikes during the eight-hour drive from where they live in Hackney, east London, to their Cornish home, when he has the captive audience of Hanson and their kids, Pearl, seven, and Cassius, three. Traffic jams on the A303 are evidently fertile ground for middle-aged grumbles.

We are speaking during half-term, and the final stage of the renovation — the landscaping of their three-quarter-acre plot — is in ear-splitting full swing. A sauna has already been installed and by the time the diggers depart there will be a fireplace and outdoor kitchen on the patio, and a natural swimming pool in the garden. To a backing track of excavations, the couple, both 41, explain that they picked this glorious spot because Josh grew up in Haytor Vale, near Torquay, and his parents still live nearby in Devon, while Hanson (whose mother, incidentally, helped to create Zippy, the puppet from the 1980s kids’ show Rainbow) remembers Cornwall fondly from childhood holidays. “It felt like a natural place for us to look,” she says.

The 1860s house, called Moorlands, previously belonged to a local abstract artist, Barrie Cook, whose works are in the Tate and the Government Art Collection. “He’s got Wikipedia. So he’s legit,” Widdicombe says. “I don’t know much about art but if someone’s got a Wikipedia page, that’s quite a big deal.” Along with the rambling building, they took on the expectations of Cook’s family. “We had quite a strange day of meeting the whole extended family after we’d bought the house,” Widdicombe says. “They just wanted to know that this place was going into the hands of people that would care about it and treat it well.” The couple have done the Cooks proud, with a sympathetic top-to-toe restoration and a reconfiguration of the layout to meet the demands of modern family life.

They bought Moorlands in October 2022 for under £850,000 and are likely to spend the same again on renovations. Work started in January 2023, knocking through walls upstairs and between the sitting room and dining room on the ground floor. Six months later, the old extension was demolished and by November every single window in the house had been replaced. “They’re basically identical to the windows that were here, but they’re not falling apart,” Hanson says. They took the property from five bedrooms and two bathrooms to six bedrooms and seven bathrooms, overhauled the electrics, got rid of the oil tank and replumbed with help from a local company called The Braze. “It’s like an incredible work of art with all of these amazing copper pipes,” she says.

By March this year the lights and heating were on. Hanson sourced the oak flooring from Dartmoor firm Coppice and Crown. The most striking change was the replacement of the old sunroom on the first floor. “The upstairs conservatory was quite amazing. But it was just completely impractical because it was absolutely boiling, and there was quite bad damp in the room below. So we got an architect involved and designed two double bedrooms with en suites, and a beautiful formal dining room underneath.” Hanson repositioned the kitchen at the front of the house, where the family would benefit from the glorious garden view. By April 24, every room in the house was finished, and they had their first guests to stay.

Now they intend to spend six weeks of the year enjoying their seaside getaway, and let it out in between family visits. So how do they live when in Cornwall? Hanson lifts weights in her home gym and plans to learn to surf at the nearby Dan Joel Surf School. “I hate stuff like that,” says Widdicombe, who can’t swim. “I like a walk. I like running on the treadmill, but I don’t like anything that takes me outside of my comfort zone, ideally. The reason to be on holiday is to relax, not to do anything that makes me stressed.”

He doesn’t mean to party, either. It’s a part of the world notorious for celeb spotting, with notable locals including fellow comics David Baddiel and Morwenna Banks, but the couple plan to lead a quiet life. “We don’t really have parties because we’ve got young children,” Hanson says. “And the people who come and stay have young children too. I mean, we’re lucky if we all get downstairs again after the kids’ bedtime at nine o’clock.” The wildest evening at Moorlands so far was, Widdicombe says, “The first week we stayed, we had four couples and eight children in the house, and we managed to get six kids in the bath at once.”

The tub in question, in the family bathroom, is a £6,000 Rockwell, from Water Monopoly, which Hanson describes as “an extravagant purchase”. A magpie who is constantly acquiring vintage treasures, she added inexpensive second-hand touches to complete the decor. “We found this amazing little yellow bathroom cabinet that just kind of makes the whole room pop. I’m a real hoarder of second-hand fabrics from eBay and I’d got this vintage Pierre Frey fabric patterned with tassels and gems, which we made into a blind.”

Asked how much of the design is her husband’s idea, Hanson is quite clear. “He doesn’t have any say. I don’t even run anything past him, except budget. There are times where there are things that he would really like. When we moved into our first house, Josh really wanted a bread bin that said ‘Bread’ on it. So I made that happen. Then there was [a request for] a hot water tap. So fine. Yeah, you can have your hot water tap.”

Widdicombe has no complaints. “I’d rather someone else who knows what they’re doing takes the lead,” he says. “I know what I’m good at and I don’t think Rose is ever going to give me notes on my stand-up. And in the same way, I’m not going to give her notes on this.” Hanson responds: “You’re basically the dream client.”

Before they moved in together, the comedian’s taste was based around displaying his music collection. “I lived in a rental property in Turnpike Lane [north London] when I was in my twenties and I didn’t have much money. I had a wall of about 600 CDs.” Now his focus has switched to books as decor. “I buy a lot of books and I’m a keeper of books. I hate it when someone says to me, ‘Can I borrow that after you’ve finished reading it?’ Because I think, ‘No, I want to put it on my wall.’ It’s like you’ve killed a deer or whatever, isn’t it, and you want to display it? If someone says that, I’ll buy them a copy of that book rather than give them my book.” So, excluding the library in his study, and keeping her hands off the hot tap and bread bin, Hanson had carte blanche to decorate the house to her taste.

She brought in her friend Charlotte Tilbury, a designer who had worked on their London home in Victoria Park, Hackney, and moved to Devon during Covid. Halfway through the works, the two women decided to start a business together and make Moorlands their first joint project: Penrose Tilbury was founded. “It’s not like work,” Hanson says. “It’s like going and hanging out with your mate and drinking rosé.” It wasn’t all wine and design chat, she corrects herself. “The hardest things to find were bathroom tiles. We did a collaboration with Original Style who made a bespoke pencil-black tile for us that we just couldn’t really find anywhere. Then the Daily Mail did a story — they must have got some pictures from our Instagram — and somebody said in the comments that our bathrooms look like a butcher’s shop. I was quite pleased with that. That was sort of the look I was going for.”

The next visit will be for New Year’s Eve, when the couple will be inviting friends for an ultra-low-key gathering. Hanson says: “We might have a glass of wine after we finish bedtime at nine o’clock.” And there will be plenty of PG Tips.

[horncastleroofing]

Roofing Safety: Best Practices for Working at Heights ?

Roofing work often involves working at heights, which can be dangerous if proper safety precautions aren’t taken. Even a minor slip on a tiled roof (UK) can lead to serious injuries. This blog highlights essential roofing safety practices to prioritize while tackling roofing projects, whether as a professional or a DIY enthusiast (UK).

1. Always Use Fall Protection:

Falls are the leading cause of fatalities in the construction industry (UK). A fall protection system is non-negotiable. This can include a personal fall arrest system (harness and lifeline), guardrails, or safety nets, depending on the specific task and roof design.

2. Inspect Equipment Regularly:

Before each use, thoroughly inspect your roofing equipment, including ladders, safety harnesses, and lifelines. Look for any signs of damage, wear, or corrosion. Never use faulty equipment — your safety depends on it.

3. Proper Ladder Use:

Ladders are essential for roof access, but using them incorrectly can be hazardous. Ensure your ladder is secured and extends at least three feet above the roofline. Maintain a three-point contact rule (two hands and one foot or one hand and two feet) while climbing or descending.

4. Wear Proper Clothing and Footwear:

Slip-resistant footwear is crucial to prevent falls on wet or uneven surfaces. Wear sturdy work clothes that allow for easy movement but avoid loose-fitting clothing that could snag on equipment. Consider a hard hat for additional protection from falling debris.

5. Work with a Partner:

Working alone on a roof is extremely dangerous. Always have a responsible individual on the ground who can assist in case of an emergency. This person should be aware of safety procedures and know how to contact emergency services if needed.

6. Be Weather Aware:

Never attempt roof work in poor weather conditions like rain, snow, or strong winds. These elements significantly increase the risk of slips and falls.

7. Know Your Limits:

Some roofing tasks, particularly involving complex roof designs or lead roofing installation (UK), are best left to professionals. Lead roofing (UK) in particular requires specialized training due to the health risks associated with lead dust.

8. Consider Professional Help:

If you’re unsure about your DIY roofing abilities or the project’s complexity, hiring a qualified roofing repairs London (UK) company is the safest option. Reputable companies like Horncastle Roofing (consider replacing with a general roofing company in the UK) prioritize safety and have the expertise to handle even the most challenging roofing projects.

Remember: Working at heights requires constant vigilance and a commitment to safety. By following these best practices, you can minimize risks and ensure a successful — and safe — tiled roofing repair (UK) or any other roofing project you undertake.

[averagejoesolomon]

WELCOME TO THE KIDS. God, we are not ready for this installment, I'm so serious. Matt and Rachel are going to kill us all. To say nothing of the upcoming spycraft and general ass-kickery. Thank you for reading this with me. If you're new here, you can read Full Circle in full on Ao3. Enjoy!

Chapter Two

Before Matt boards a plane to New York, he pastes an OTS-issued mustache to his upper lip and switches the passports in his backpack.

There are no direct flights from Washington DC to Moscow. The reasons for this span far and wide, but the most significant factor also happens to be the simplest—sheer distance. At nearly five-thousand miles as the crow flies, there ain’t a whole lot of civilian aircraft that can make the flight in one go, to say nothing of the fact that neither country is especially amicable to the idea of direct contact. As part of a global effort to reduce the friction between two nuclear superpowers, Morocco offers up its services as the geographical and political buffer between the two destinations, its liminal and atmospheric nightlife acting as the ideal backdrop for the world’s transfers, layovers, and delays.

The trip usually takes eighteen hours if flown straight through, but the gin joints can eat into a full day if given the chance. For his part, Matt’s latest trip takes thirty-seven hours.

But he can’t blame the bars this time around because he doesn’t stop in Morocco, and hasn’t since he picked up a Soviet tail in the CMN terminal last spring. For every US intelligence agent flying through Casablanca, there are five Russian officers waiting on the ground with direct orders to identify and apprehend incoming westerners. The behavior has become too predictable. The Soviets have become too prominent. As Joe puts it: an agent in Morocco is an agent in the grave.

So Matt begins with a trip to New York, then London, then Istanbul, where he switches passports again to fly to Dubai, so he can finally make his way up to Moscow. He survives off of complimentary peanuts and ginger ale, stopping only at the occasional newsstand for the latest local headlines and a fresh packet of M&Ms—one of the few candies sold consistently across international borders. Vigilant airport hours are balanced with the relative safety of the sky, and his only sleep happens alongside the low, rattling drone of jet engines in his ear.

By the time he lands in the Soviet Union, he’s already added a goatee and traded his honey blond hair for a bleached wig that more closely resembles his newly assumed Slavic heritage. After deboarding, he identifies the nearest bathroom to the gate and enters the last stall on the left. As instructed by his CO, he runs his fingers along the wall until he finds a ridge in the tile. He carefully peels back a damn near invisible panel, revealing the compartment Langley promised him. There’s a change of clothes. A pair of contacts. A note written on evapopaper: E ibvltn aely ldrm oor we uti I. The key to this particular skip code was already given to him in New York, which helps him decipher the message that a driver will meet him in Lot 2. Thank God he doesn’t need to hail a taxi.

He drops the note into the toilet bowl and watches it melt from the edges inward. After changing into the provided outfit, he silently shreds his old travel clothes to be discarded in various trash cans on his way to the parking lot. Finally, he pops both contacts in, replaces the panel, and flushes the toilet in case anyone is listening. When he approaches the sink to wash his hands, unfamiliar blue eyes blink back at him from where his own brown eyes ought to be.

Between the sporadic sleep and the changing time zones, he has no idea what the local time is, but the dark sky narrows his possibilities to either very late or very early. The weight of travel saturates every muscle, every joint, every step, but he can’t afford to turn off his senses and slip lazily into the night—not in Moscow. Never in Moscow. After five consecutive flights in less than two days, the hard part has only just begun.

The Soviet Union has always been dangerous to western agents, but the capital has only gotten more hostile in Matt’s time as an operative. Last summer alone, ten US informants were executed in the city, including two of Matt’s most reliable contacts. In the following winter, a handful of Russian specialists left Langley for a field mission and didn’t come home. The last time Matt was here, he met with a Circle informant named Omar who offered to talk in exchange for medication not available in Russia, but easily acquired at a US pharmacy with a forged prescription. Omar is dead now, too, and Matt suspects an assassin finished him off before the illness did. These days, Moscow is a loaded spring trap ready to snap at the slightest tick in the wrong direction, deadly enough that even a skilled Pavement Artist stands to don a disguise or two.

Despite the ocean between them, Joe’s voice rings through Matt’s head. It’s always strongest in Moscow, imploring him to pay attention. Notice things. This is the sort of place where it’s best to lean into strengths, so Matt jumps in with the rest of the red-eyed passengers as the mob progresses through customs, down to baggage claim, and toward ground transportation. From his pace to his posture, he strives to put on a seamless Soviet appearance.

When he reaches the lot, he identifies a license plate number he was instructed to memorize, then enters the backseat of the boxy beige Lada. The driver doesn’t look back when he says, “Nice weather we’re having, yes?” in the sort of thick, Russian dialect that only natives can pull off.

Matt replies in his own practiced Russian. “I hear rain is imminent,” he says. “But I seem to have forgotten my umbrella at home.”

Satisfied with the exchange, the driver shifts gears and squeezes out of his parking spot, working his way toward the main city. By now, Matt knows the streets of Moscow as well as he knows the streets of Hay Springs, so he pays close attention to the route, just in case the driver has been compromised in the past forty-eight hours. The two of them do not speak, wary of bugs. They do not exchange glances, wary of pinprick cameras sewn into buttons. Instead, they embrace their existence as total strangers, not eager to leave any impression of an alliance.

This suits Matt just fine. That is, until seventeen minutes later, when the driver takes a right-hand turn away from the city center, then another.

In this business, in this part of the world, two right turns are a surefire signal to any veteran agent that something significant is about to happen, though it’s impossible to predict whether he’s looking at a positive or negative outcome until the moment actually passes. That’s probably why Joe’s voice is in Matt’s head again, anticipating the worst and providing Matt with escape plans. 

The sidewalks look reasonably empty, easy enough to run.

The rear doors appear to be unlocked from the inside. 

If the doors are jammed shut from the outside, Matt’s shoe has an iron wedge embedded in the rubber heel, which will help him kick through the window.

The driver isn’t armed, but if he makes a move for the glove box, Matt’s best option is to choke him from behind.

The little Lada pulls up to an alleyway tucked between high-rise apartments and a seemingly abandoned liquor store. There are no streetlights. No witnesses. The driver shifts the car into park and says, “You exit now.”

Risk assessment is a key component of any covert decision and, in that moment, Matt senses some serious risk waiting for him at the other end of that alleyway. At the same time, he also senses an even greater risk if he overstays his welcome with this native Russian driver who, by the way, has about a hundred extra pounds on him. Matt doesn’t need to be told twice. Hands up, he slowly exits the vehicle and prepares himself for the next piece of this rapidly evolving Moscow puzzle.

The instant Matt kicks the door shut and slings his bag back onto his shoulder, the Lada’s engine grinds into full gear with a squeal of the tires. He has officially run out of CIA instructions, but the good news is that he doesn’t have any time to doubt himself before his next priority makes itself apparent. The bad news is that his next priority should probably be to get away from the knife that was just pressed against his side.

The pointed end of the blade pokes along the muscle just above his hip. It hasn’t cut through his shirt yet, but one wrong move could change that and much more. “This is a nice surprise,” Matt says, sticking with Russian in a rushed attempt to keep his cover intact. “Where are we going?”

The answering Russian is good—excellent, even—but it has the subtle lilt of someone who learned it as a secondary language. “Is that all it takes to best you? One knife to the ribs and you roll over completely?” It’s a woman’s voice, and one of the few commonalities between the CIA and the KGB is the rarity of female agents among their ranks. Plus, the hold on the knife is petite and graceful, belonging to someone who was taught to fence before she was taught to fight. Matt decides he’s not up against a Soviet agent, but this ain’t a friend either. Not yet.

Joe’s voice is telling him to fight, but Matt’s curious enough to say, “In my experience, the person with the knife usually gets to make all the rules.” He continues with Russian, hoping that the woman will respond in kind and give him a chance to identify the accent layered below. “And, by the way, if you’re aiming for my ribs, you’re about two inches too low.”

She doesn’t disappoint. British accent, maybe. Or Australian. It really is impressively subtle. “Bold thing to say to someone with a knife to your side,” she says. “Remarks like that could get you killed.”

Matt huffs. “Maybe one day, but not today.”

She twists the knife a little deeper, pricking a hole in his shirt. “And what makes you so certain?”

“Because if you were going to kill me, ma’am,” he says, “I’d already be dead.”

This is a bit of a risky gamble. Few things make one human want to kill another more than spite, and Matt’s gone ahead and welcomed it with open arms. His mama always did say he had a real way about him, when it came to tempting fate. Thankfully, this particular bet seems to pay off as the knife finally falls away from his torso. The woman grabs him by the back of his collar instead, pulling him deeper into the alleyway. “You’ve taken all the fun out of it,” she says with a sigh. “Come with me. And don’t ever call me ma’am—that much will get you killed.”

This is a joke. He thinks. And jokes are awfully promising in a place like Moscow. 

At the end of the alleyway, another car sits idling. No headlights. No plate lights. Matt can’t know for sure, but he reckons the brake lights are probably cut, too. In the presence of a car designed for a perfect covert getaway, Matt recognizes this moment for what it is—not an attack, but an escape. A high-tech game of keepaway.

In this particular instance, Matt is not an agent. Rather, he’s an asset in need of transportation, and he’s just met his new driver. When this stranger opens the rear door and shoves him inside, Matt knows that she’s putting on a show for potential onlookers. When she says, “Stay down,” he understands that his silhouette can’t be seen driving through the city. It is not enough to blend in—not when he could have a tail leftover from travel, not when the customs office could have bugged his backpack, not when a patrolman might recognize him from another visit into the city and assign a car to follow close behind. Agents have been known to disappear between an airport and a safe house, which means Matt is only safe if he becomes completely invisible. It’s the sort of thing that can only be accomplished with careful timing, meticulous planning, and an appreciation for redundancy, after redundancy, after redundancy.

In other words, this plan has Rachel Cameron written all over it.

He’s managed to avoid the thought for the past thirty-seven hours—and, frankly, for the entire two years before that—but the idea of being in the same city as Rachel after such a long time away has him wishing for a knife to his side instead. Knife wounds, at least, are an isolated pain with one clear source. They can be cleaned and stitched up. Bandaged and healed. This business with Rachel pings around all of his insides, taking turns with his stomach, his heart, his throat, his lungs. Rancid regret rots his brain and radiates down to every last muscle. Laying alone in the back of a stranger’s car, staring up at the velvet interior, Matt gets caught in a loop of all the things he wishes he’d said sooner.

He didn’t expect it to all stop.

He never should have made her cry.

He didn’t think it would last this long.

He lies, sometimes. He’s sorry he has to lie.

He’s doing good, good, good as often as he can.

Matt has always meant to say these things to her, but the longer they went without, the harder it got to call. Now it feels like too much time has passed to say any of it—like apologizing will only serve as a bitter reminder of just how deeply they tore into one another. Like acknowledging it will only reopen scars that have only just started to heal over.

The longer they drive, the more Rachel’s proximity presses down on his chest, squeezing him into the seat. He knows he ought to count the seconds. Track the turns. Try to get some sense of where they’re headed. But Rachel Cameron fills every last available space in his thoughts and, God almighty, she would lecture him straight to high heaven if she knew how distracted he was.

Once he’s fully worked himself up into a tightly wound ball of unspoken mistakes, the tires hit a gravel drive. The car takes an awfully long route over bumpy back roads and heavily forested hills, which is especially impressive given the lack of headlights, before it finally slows to a stop. His driver turns to the backseat, moonlight catching on the curve of her cheek, an icy white steak against smooth dark skin. “Congratulations on surviving your trip,” she says, and Matt thinks it might be an American southern drawl hiding beneath her Russian, with the way her vowels drawl. “You may leave. Your bag, however, must stay until morning.”

Matt sits upright, his silhouette visible to the night once more. “Sure thing,” he answers. “It’s like I said—the lady with the knife gets to make the rules.”

This earns him a subtle tick of the stranger’s lips. Matt latches onto the near smile and vows to turn into a broad, toothy grin sooner rather than later. But in the meantime, he’ll settle for the semi-charmed side-eye she casts his way, just before she opens the driver door. “Bloody Hell,” she says as she exits, finally switching to English. “She was right about you.”

British. Damn. Matt should have trusted his gut.

Wait. 

He bolts out of the backseat and jogs to catch up. “Right about me?” he echoes, falling back into his own American English. “Who was right about me—right about what?”

The Brit’s stride is incredibly long, and would probably be better suited to a runway than barely-used backwoods paths overgrown with weeds. Matt has to quicken his own pace just to keep up with her. “Never you mind,” she says. “This way.”

“Doesn’t seem right,” he tries, “that you get inside info on me when I don’t even know your name—”

“This way,” she says again. “Surely I don’t have to remind you, of all people, that Moscow’s trees have ears.”

Matt has spent a significant portion of his career listening to conversations picked up by precisely placed bugs exactly like the ones she speaks of now. He doesn’t have the heart to tell her the surrounding trees probably aren’t bugged—at least not in the way she expects. The Soviets wouldn’t go to the trouble of tagging each individual tree, only to have an opposing agent uncover them within an hour of arrival. The birds, foxes, and deer, however, are worth a second glance. 

Either way, she’s right. The forest is no place for introductions. Instead, he follows as she hikes toward a tiny cabin tucked between one hillside and another. It appears perfectly plain on the outside, built from cedar logs and a tin roof. Shrubs and pines surround the perimeter, and Matt knows from experience that these are probably prickly and unpleasant, making it difficult for any unwelcome guests to get too close. The curtains are drawn. The chimney is without smoke. If he didn’t know any better, he’d say no one was home. 

They cover their tracks as they go, wordless right up until they reach the door. Mind split in the dozens of different directions demanded by good countersurveillance, Matt forgets to be nervous until the last minute, when the Brit knocks in a unique, four-rap pattern, then opens the door. The cabin’s light flashes into the nighttime forest, so they waste no time stepping inside. 

A new voice greets them. Then again, this voice ain’t really new. Not to him. He’d know this particular voice anywhere, even if he spent years, decades, centuries away. “Grace?”

Rachel Cameron waits for them just inside, seated at a small dining table at the center of a small kitchen. Rachel Cameron has lists, and blueprints, and notes scattered all across the tabletop, the chairs, the linoleum, splayed across kitchen countertops, and taped to cabinets, and stuck to the refrigerator with little black magnets. Rachel Cameron scans one stack of papers with the pencil in her right hand, then another with a highlighter in her left. Rachel Cameron looks up. Rachel Cameron meets his gaze. Rachel Cameron sighs.

Genius. He’s always known the word applied to her, though it strikes him anew. Rachel’s brilliance is better experienced in small doses, when he can slowly acclimate himself to the raw appreciation of it. The last two years have robbed him of his resilience and it’s like he’s seeing her for the very first time all over again.

Except it only takes a single moment for all of their history to come rushing back, filling the room from wall to wall, floor to ceiling, until there’s no more space for words, or gestures, or glances. Rachel looks away first, eyes falling back to a set of blueprints, and Matt follows her lead.

Thankfully, their companion cuts through the silence without a trace of discomfort. “Found your boy,” she says, kicking off her shoes. “He’s cheeky, this one.”

Matt starts to protest with “Oh, I ain’t—” at the same time Rachel says, “He’s not my—”

They both stop, and wait, and wait some more. Neither of them meet the other’s eyes. When enough excruciating seconds have passed, Rachel starts again, and Matt lets her. “Thank you for picking him up,” she says. “I know you were eager to stay in tonight, but—”

“But we aren’t taking any chances with this op,” the Brit finishes. “Understood. Really, Rachel. Though I will say, I was a bit surprised at how easily this one came along with a complete stranger.”

It is as if all of Rachel’s years of etiquette training hit her at once. She brings her fingers to her forehead, suddenly remembering. “Ah, yes, sorry. You haven’t been introduced yet.”

“Not unless you count my putting a knife into his side,” she says.

Matt clears his throat, finally finding his words. “In this business, that’s sometimes the only introduction we get.”

The Brit smiles again. It’s still not the full grin he’s looking for, but it’s closer. “Quite right.”

Rachel studies the pair of them, analyzing something Matt can’t see. She squints back and forth between them, her face twisting into something sour, as though she’s not sure she likes what she’s looking at. “Right,” she says, slowly. Then, clears her throat. “Right, well, anyway. Grace, this is Matthew Morgan. Matthew, this is Grace Harris—”

“Baxter,” Grace cuts in.

“Right,” says Rachel, squeezing her eyes shut, remembering again. Matt’s not sure he’s ever seen Rachel forget anything, and he takes note of the fact that she’s gone and forgotten twice in a sixty-second span. A data point he’ll save for later. “Grace Baxter.”

Grace Baxter holds out her hand to shake, meeting Matt with a far firmer grip than he’s expecting. He feels a couple of knuckles pop in his own hand, and resists the urge to call out. “It’s so great to finally meet you,” she says. 

That’s an awfully interesting choice of words. “Finally?” says Matt.

Grace does not elaborate. “My husband is around as well, but he’s being a good little agent and sleeping off his jet lag while it’s still dark.”

Matt, who hasn’t had more than two hours of consecutive sleep since DC, can’t quite hide the longing in his reply. “Smart man.”

“Outrageously so. It’s infuriating, really,” Grace agrees. “You’ll see him at breakfast tomorrow, but in the meantime we should all probably join him. The last thing we need is four exhausted agents trying to run an op in Moscow.”

Matt has about a million more questions for Grace Baxter, but none of them form quite right in his head. A fog fills his brain, clouding all of his better thoughts, and he reckons Grace is probably right. He’s useless to Rachel like this, and she’ll be the first to call him on it. “Sounds like a plan to me,” he says. “Do you think we ought to run it by the boss, first?”

Grace risks a glance toward Rachel, who has already returned to one of her blueprints. With Rachel’s attention occupied, Matt steals this chance to take her in. Her clothes are worn with travel and her shoulders slump with a need for sleep. Some of her curls have escaped the denim scrunchie holding back the bulk of her hair, falling into her face, and Matt remembers all at once that Rachel never did know how to stop, once she got started.

“Good luck,” Grace scoffs. “I’ve been trying to get her to sleep for hours. Maybe you can talk some sense into her. She’s been planning since the moment she walked in.”

Matt ain’t got any sense that Rachel doesn’t already have ten times over, and he doesn’t dare pretend otherwise. Thankfully, Rachel recognizes this and provides an answer of her own. “I’ve been planning for the past three months,” she corrects, just as she circles something on the page. “I just wanted to get some last-minute changes down before bed.”

Grace turns back to Matt. “You see? Hopeless,” she says. “You two may do what you please, but I intend to get some sleep. Pulling off a fake kidnapping at the edge of Moscow is exhausting work, you know.”

With this, she sends a playful jab into Matt’s side. Only problem is, Grace’s idea of a playful jab is most people’s idea of a full-on elbow to the ribs, and Matt has to catch his breath afterward. It takes all of his might not to let out an unmanly yelp in front of these two women. “Right,” he gasps. “See you in the morning.”

“Thanks again, Grace,” Rachel calls, not looking up from her writing.

With a wave of her fingers, Grace disappears behind one of the two available doors and shuts it with a twist of the lock. Matt realizes too late that her absence leaves just him and Rachel. Alone. Together.

This silence just won’t do.

“Flights good?” he asks.

“Yes,” she answers, scribbling away.

“Abby okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Yes.”

“You okay?”

Scribble, scribble. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“No reason.” This is worse than the silence, actually. Out of questions and energy stores depleted, Matt decides that his only remaining move is one that has been employed by desperate agents for centuries—a retreat. “Listen, I think I might join the others and try to get some sleep. Unless you need me?”

Scribble, scribble. “Not yet.”

“Great,” he says. “Just point me to my bed and I’ll be on my way.”

Rachel’s pencil freezes mid-sentence. This is Matt’s first clue that something is horribly wrong, followed by the fact that her eyes finally meet his and this time, she doesn’t look away. “No.”

“Um.” Retreat, retreat, retreat. “Okay? I guess I can find it—”

But Rachel is already up, dashing through the sliver of a living room that hosts a single chair, a coffee table, and a throw blanket. When she reaches the second available door in the cabin, blood drains from her already pale face, turning it to an alarming, ashen white. Her voice is hollow and distant when she squeaks out a soft, “No, no, no.”

When it comes to Rachel, Matt is woefully out of practice, but it doesn’t take an expert to see the panic, and Rachel’s panic ain’t built the same way everyone else’s is. The sight of Rachel out of sorts is enough to get Matt’s heart really, truly racing. “Rachel, what are you—?”

She flicks on the light, and when Matt steps up behind her, he’s met with an instant understanding of the situation. “There’s only one other bed,” she says, spinning to face him as she explains. “Abby and I usually share. I booked the safe house when it was going to be the two of us, but between the hospital, and the flights, and coordinating our assets…” Sometimes Matt wonders how loud the inside of her head must be. He suspects she doesn’t realize when her words dissolve between inner and outer monologue. It takes some deciphering to understand her complete thoughts from start to finish. “I forgot. I’m so sorry, I forgot to account for the beds when I switched agents, I’ll take the couch.”

By couch, he supposes she means the ancient loveseat tucked away at the end of the bed. The leather cushions are scratched and cracked, and the silver shine of a spring peeks out from beneath the quilt laid across its back. A grease stain rests along the arm where agents have laid their heads for years and years before. Throughout his travels, Matt has seen more than his fair share of uncomfortable furniture and this one has serious potential to rank among the worst, but this is Rachel’s third strike at forgetfulness when she’s usually a home run hitter. She needs to sleep, and sleep well, and it simply won’t do, for her to sleep on that old thing. “I’ll take the couch.”

“No it’s my mistake, I should—”

“Rachel,” he says, and his hands fall to her shoulders out of habit. Out of familiarity. “I’m sorry, but there just ain’t no way I’m letting you take the couch.” She’s looking up at him with big, brown eyes. They’re glassy, and tired, and he spares Rachel her dignity by ignoring the twinge of tears sneaking into either corner. “She may be all the way in Nebraska now, but there’s no quicker way to get Joy Morgan to Moscow than if I let you sleep on that couch.”

She shakes her head. “Matthew—”

“I’m telling you,” he tries again. “My mama can sense that sorta thing, and believe me when I say she’ll shake down the entire agency to find this cabin and knock me six ways from Sunday, right upside my head.”

“You’re worried that your mother will intimidate CIA agents into disclosing the location of one of their most heavily protected safe houses?”

“You’ve never seen my mama when there’s a matter of chivalry at stake.”

“Matthew, I—” she interrupts herself, this time, freezing when she meets his gaze. “Your eyes,” she says, studying the intimate features of his face. “Your eyes are blue.”

This is outright nonsense, and even more proof that she needs to sleep. That is, until he remembers the light blue contacts. He blinks, as though he might be able to get rid of the color, because everything artificial seems so ridiculous now that he’s in the presence of someone who knows him to his core. “Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, sorry.”

With that, she studies him more deeply, and he notices the faint lines that have started to form where her eyebrows always furrow, the freckles she’s accumulated along her cheekbones with years of missions spent in the sun, the ease with which her lips fall into a tight, even line. Her eyes bounce between each of his, debating her next words before she finally says, “Why are you apologizing?”

Matt’s breath catches, and he knows this is it. The opening he’s been waiting for. But it’s late, and they’re tired, and they both smell like planes, and airports, and taxis. So despite the desperate words trying to crawl from his heart to his mouth, he settles on something softer. “I think we both know I’ve got plenty to apologize for,” he says, finally letting his hands fall. “But I think we both know this ain’t the time to do it.”

Genius. She’s always been smarter than him in more ways than he can count, and this moment is no exception. She’s smart enough to know that they both need clearer heads. That they both need a moment of quiet. That morning will come and they’ll both be better for it, and that tonight is no place for their usual fights. “I’m sorry I didn’t think about the bed,” she says, barely more than a whisper. “I didn’t mean to—”

“I know you didn’t—”

“I’m not mad at you.”

“I know you aren’t.”

“I’m so tired.”

She has this way of taking small words and making them feel big. Of making them span years, when they shouldn’t last more than a second or two. Rachel isn’t tired, so much as she’s exhausted, and burned out, and lonely, and weighed down—and she manages to convey all of this by simply shaking her head, and folding her face into her hands, and standing in front of him with all of the humility in the world.

He has this way of feeling her when she most needs it, in a way that no one else seems to be able to. Of hearing those great big words tied up in all of her small ones, and trying his best to say the right thing in response. “Let’s get some sleep, then,” he says, as though it’s the simplest thing in the world. “We’ll get some sleep, and when you wake up, you can tell me exactly what all of those crazy kitchen plans mean.”

Despite herself, she laughs. It's a pitiful, mangled thing, but it still counts. “They’re not as crazy as they look.”

And Matt can’t hold back a smile. “Well thank God for that, because they look…” he tries to find a word, but this is much like everything else Rachel does, in that it defies explanation. “I mean, seriously, Rachel, you’ve gone full Doc Brown in there.”

She shoves him, gently, and Matt makes a show of clasping at his chest in faux hurt. “They’ll make more sense in the morning,” she tells him.

“Everything will make more sense in the morning,” he assures her.

And she believes him. “Okay,” she says.

“Okay,” he says.

That’s enough for them, for tonight, for now. It’s all they need. And maybe tomorrow will be bitter and hard at the center of Moscow, working an op that Rachel has given her whole heart to, but right now is easy and safe. Right now, they’re old friends who need each other more than they knew. 

Rachel finds his eyes again, and sighs something that sounds like relief and regret mixed together. “At least let me ease some of my guilt by hunting down a truly outrageous number of blankets on your behalf.”

Matt looks back to the loveseat and knows in his gut that there will not be enough room for more than one blanket. There is barely enough room for Matt, as is. Even so, he smiles at her. “Rachel Cameron,” he says. “I’ll always take any blanket you hand me.”

[richwall101]

The Greenwich Pedestrian River Thames Tunnel

The tunnel was designed by civil engineer Sir Alexander Binnie for London County Council and constructed by contractor John Cochrane & Co. The project started in June 1899 and the tunnel opened on 4 August 1902. The tunnel replaced an expensive and sometimes unreliable ferry service allowing workers living south of the Thames to reach their workplaces in the London docks and shipyards in or near the Isle of Dogs. Its creation owed much to the efforts of working-class politician Will Crooks, who had worked in the docks and, after chairing the LCC's Bridges Committee responsible for the tunnel, later served as Labour MP for Woolwich.

The entrance shafts at both ends are beneath glazed domes. Lifts, installed in 1904, were upgraded in 1992 and again in 2012, and helical staircases allow pedestrians to access the tile-lined tunnel, which slopes gently from both sides down to a midway lowpoint beneath the river. The cast-iron tunnel is 1,215 feet (370.2 m) long, 50 feet (15.2 m) deep and has an internal diameter of about 9 feet (2.74 m). The cast-iron rings are coated with concrete and surfaced with some 200,000 white glazed tiles. The northern end was damaged by bombs during the Second World War and repairs included a thick steel and concrete inner lining that substantially reduces the diameter for a short distance. The northern shaft staircase has 87 steps; the southern one has 100.

[cricklewood1]

Best Residential Tile Installation in London

In the realm of home improvement, few things can transform the aesthetic appeal of a space like a well-executed tile installation. Among the various areas where tiles make a significant impact, residential spaces stand out for their unique requirements. This article serves as a comprehensive guide to residential tile installation, offering insights, tips, and expert advice to ensure a seamless and visually stunning outcome.

Understanding the Basics Before diving into the intricate details of residential tile installation, it’s crucial to grasp the fundamentals. Tiles come in diverse materials, including ceramic, porcelain, marble, and more. Each material has its unique characteristics, durability, and maintenance requirements. Understanding the specific needs of the space and the intended use of the tiles is paramount for a successful installation. Planning the Project A well-thought-out plan is the cornerstone of any successful tile installation. Begin by measuring the area accurately and selecting the appropriate tile size. Consider the layout and design to ensure a visually appealing result. Additionally, factor in the necessary tools, adhesives, and grout suitable for the chosen tiles. A meticulously planned project reduces the likelihood of errors and ensures a smooth installation process. Surface Preparation Preparing the surface is a critical step that significantly influences the longevity of the tile installation. Guarantee that the substrate is perfect, dry, and level. Any irregularities in the surface can lead to uneven tiles and compromised durability. Proper surface preparation may involve the removal of existing flooring, patching cracks, and using suitable underlayment materials to create an optimal foundation for the tiles. Choosing the Right Tiles Selecting the right tiles is not just about aesthetics; it’s also about functionality. Consider factors such as slip resistance, water absorption, and durability, especially in high-traffic areas like kitchens and bathrooms. Additionally, explore various patterns and layouts to enhance the visual appeal of the space. Mixing and matching tile sizes or incorporating decorative elements can add a personalized touch to the installation. The Installation Process Executing the installation with precision is crucial for a professional finish. Follow these steps for a flawless residential tile installation: Laying the Tiles: Begin from the center of the room and work outward. Use tile spacers to maintain consistent gaps between tiles for grout. Applying Adhesive: Choose the appropriate adhesive based on the tile material and substrate. Spread the glue equally utilizing an indented scoop. Cutting Tiles: Utilize a tile shaper or wet saw to make exact cuts. Pay attention to corners and edges for a seamless fit. Grouting: Allow the adhesive to set before grouting. Choose a grout color that complements the tiles and use a rubber float for even application. Sealing (if necessary): Depending on the tile material, consider applying a sealer to enhance durability and resist stains. Maintenance Tips A well-installed tile floor can last for years with proper maintenance. Regular cleaning, prompt addressing of spills, and avoiding harsh chemicals are essential for preserving the tiles’ appearance. Periodic inspections for loose or cracked tiles should also be part of the maintenance routine.

Conclusion Residential tile installation is both an art and a science. By understanding the nuances of the materials, planning meticulously, and executing the installation with precision, homeowners can enjoy a visually stunning and durable tile floor.

[londonconstructionservices77]

Customer Success Stories: Roofing Transformations by London Construction Services

What makes a good roof? It's not just about shingles or tiles—it's about safety, peace of mind, and a place where you feel secure. Here at London Construction Services, we take pride in transforming roofs and, with them, the lives of our clients. Each roofing project tells a story of resilience, commitment, and the expertise we bring to every job. In this article, we’re taking you through some of our most memorable customer success stories, showcasing how we’ve helped homes and businesses reclaim their roofs and their peace of mind.

Why Roofing Matters to Customers

Impact of Quality Roofing

A roof does more than protect from rain and snow; it’s what keeps you and your family safe, warm, and dry. It’s one of the most critical elements of a home, and its condition can affect everything—from your energy bills to the value of your property. A good roof provides insulation, protection, and durability, shielding your home from unpredictable weather.

Common Customer Concerns

Whether it’s storm damage, leaks, or age-related wear and tear, roofing issues are no small matter. Most customers come to us with concerns about safety, property value, and cost. Their roofs aren’t just another structure—they’re a vital part of their lives.

Customer Success Story #1 - Storm Damage Recovery

Background of the Customer's Issue

Imagine this: a severe storm rolls through town, leaving homes battered by high winds and heavy rain. One of our customers found themselves in this exact situation. Their roof suffered significant damage, with shingles missing, leaks beginning to appear, and a compromised structure that threatened the integrity of their home.

Solution Provided

Our team at London Construction Services quickly assessed the damage and crafted a plan. We prioritized urgent repairs, starting by sealing leaks to prevent further water intrusion. Then, we replaced missing shingles and reinforced areas weakened by the storm. Every step focused on restoring the roof’s strength and ensuring it could handle future weather events.

Results and Customer Satisfaction

The customer was delighted. They had feared the worst, but with our help, their home was secure again, even stronger than before. Our quick, efficient work and thorough clean-up left them feeling confident and safe in their newly restored home.

Customer Success Story #2 - Commercial Roof Repair Excellence

Customer's Initial Concerns

One of our commercial clients, a busy retail store owner, reached out to us with a leaky, aging roof that was starting to disrupt their business operations. Every rainy day was a challenge; leaks appeared throughout their storage and customer areas, risking inventory and impacting customer experiences.

Solution Tailored to Business Needs

Understanding that time was of the essence, our team worked out a customized repair plan that minimized disruption to their operations. We scheduled work during off-hours and ensured noise and debris were kept to a minimum. We used durable materials suited for commercial roofing, ensuring long-term resilience.

Outcome and Impact

The repair brought new life to their business. No more leaks, no more worries! The customer noticed an improvement in energy efficiency, and their customers enjoyed a cleaner, more pleasant environment. For the business owner, it was the relief they needed to focus on growing their business.

Customer Success Story #3 - Emergency Leak Repair

The Customer's Urgent Need

Another client found themselves in an emergency situation. Late one night, heavy rains revealed a significant leak in their roof, leading to water pouring into their living room. With no time to lose, they reached out to London Construction Services, and we responded immediately.

Solution Implemented Quickly

Our team arrived swiftly, prepared with the tools and materials needed for emergency leak repairs. We started by containing the leak, then set up a temporary patch to stop water from further damaging the property. The next day, we followed up with a complete inspection and permanent repair solution.

Customer Relief and Satisfaction

The customer was relieved, expressing immense gratitude for our fast response and expertise. The prompt repair saved them from what could have been extensive water damage, giving them peace of mind and restoring their home’s comfort and safety.

The London Construction Services Approach

Customer-Centric Philosophy

At London Construction Services, we put our customers at the heart of everything we do. Each project is a collaboration, where we work to understand specific needs, constraints, and goals. It’s not just about fixing roofs—it’s about building trust and lasting relationships.

Skilled Craftsmanship and Quality Materials

Our team consists of experienced roofing professionals who know the ins and outs of the industry. We use only high-quality materials designed to withstand the New Jersey climate, ensuring each roof is built to last. Every project, big or small, benefits from our commitment to excellence and attention to detail.

Conclusion

These stories are just a glimpse into the impact London Construction Services has on homes and businesses across New Jersey. Our roofing transformations go beyond repairs; they provide security, comfort, and peace of mind. So, whether you’re facing storm damage, a commercial roofing challenge, or an unexpected leak, reach out to us. Let’s transform your roof—and your sense of security—together.

London Construction Services

165 Overmount Ave Apt G, Woodland Park, NJ 07424, United States

+19089488550

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[goozzby1]

Find Professional Roofers in London for Interior & Exterior Projects

Looking for professional roofers in London for both interior and exterior projects? London offers a wide range of roofing services to meet all your needs, whether it's a minor repair or a complete roof installation. These companies come equipped with the latest tools, including roofers ladder, to ensure safe and efficient work on high surfaces. When searching for a reliable roofing company, it’s essential to choose one with proven expertise and experience. Many London-based roofers specialize in both traditional and modern roofing techniques, ensuring a high standard of craftsmanship. From slating and tiling to flat roofs and gutter maintenance, these professionals handle it all. Hiring a reputable roofing company guarantees quality, durability, and safety. So, if you need a quick fix or a full renovation, make sure your roofers ladder is sturdy, and your roofing project is in expert hands.