Chapter 12: Build in haste. Restore at leisure.
Ready to pour. 10 x 7.5m shed with 3m covered surround.
I don’t know if it is a Granite Belt peculiarity, or a rural thing in general, but we were finding it very hard to get a quote out of contractors. JT, the earthworks guy had given us a ballpark figure at least, after rubbing his chin and looking at the concrete mess for a very long time – so long that by the time he actually spoke, we agreed on the spot rather than delay the process any longer. The concreters I rang all said they’d need to see the site – fair enough, but even after doing so, none of them would give a firm price. They were worried about the trap rock, and what they might find once they started digging. We agreed on a ‘rough estimate’ with the only concreter who could commit to a ‘rough’ start date and hoped the cost wouldn’t fly out of the park.
Two weeks later, we met the concreter, Michael on site. He ran a dubious eye over the large seam of traprock that JT, the earthworks contractor had exposed. He seemed worried, perhaps afraid of unleashing the beast lurking under there. The troublesome rock was at the back of the pad, and we figured there was still enough room in front of it to put down a slab. Michael said if we moved so far forward, he would have to put in four pylons across the front of the slab so the whole thing wouldn’t slide down the hill. It would cost more, but he wouldn’t do it otherwise. Also, he wouldn’t be able to start for a month.
It seemed to us, that things were moving slowly, but we were the only ones who felt this way; everyone else thought we were zooming through the tree change process with city slicker disregard for quiet contemplation. It’s fair to say, both Smash and I are not patient people; usually it’s not a huge problem but there definitely were times throughout our shed building journey when we should have slowed down. Standing there with Michael, assessing the difficulty of the site we had chosen for the shed, I wondered why we had we even picked that spot in the first place? Neither of us could remember. It was just where the original dwelling and caravan had been and once it had all been demolished and removed, there’d been a flattish space left there. There’d been no planning meeting, no discussion about aspects, or overland flow. No surveying, in short. We didn’t have to have council approval, as it was just a shed. Neither were there any building inspectors or certifiers involved. We liked this feature of the DIY shed in the bush, but for the first time, I had a sneaky feeling we could’ve benefitted from having some professional input.
We started saying: ‘It’s just a shed’ a lot in response to logistical questions and any minor problems that arose. I will tell you now – it’s not just a shed, it’s so much more than a shed and in hindsight there are many, many times when we should’ve taken time and advice instead of rushing in. Location is everything, any real estate agent will tell you, and it’s pretty important with a shed in the bush too – especially if you intend having solar, want to be fire safe and need a place to put tanks. I thought we’d been clever to put the tank where it was, so close to the shed pad, but now I wonder if we put the shed pad there because of the tank! Chicken and egg, and all that.
On-site meeting at the water cooler. Smash explains to Jackson the correct way to wear his flanny.
Anyhoo – lesson noted but probably not learnt, we forged on. We couldn’t afford to get another shed pad made, so we made do with the one we had. We paced out a rectangle and decided on a 10 x 7.5 metre shed, with a 2.5 metre awning running along the eastern side, facing the wild bush and granite. I started searching for a steel framed shed supplier and drew up a design on Illustrator.
I have to say here, that the next biggest mistake we made (after rushing in with the shed location), was going with an inexpensive shed supplier. They weren’t the cheapest, but they were what we could afford at the time and I wished we’d hung out a little longer and gone with a better company, or taken Josh’s advice and gone with Wide Span, a company he’d dealt with. The ordering and delivery processes were fine, although they did forget to deliver the windows, but everything in relation to the build was a nightmare. They assured us that we didn’t need a registered builder to erect the shed, anyone with a bit of building experience and common sense would be able to assemble it – they would supply a manual and if we had any problems – any problems at all, we were to ring them, anytime. The salesman’s parting words were: ‘It’s all made to measure, Kate. If you have to cut something, you’re doing it wrong.’ Righto. I looked at the manual – glanced at it anyway, and promptly handed it over to Josh. He’d built his own steel framed house and was very clever, so we asked him if he would like to build our shed. We would help, of course. Josh took one look at the manual and suggested we get a builder to oversee things.
Every single builder we approached said yes, they could do it, but once they looked at the manual, all of a sudden, they were too busy, or sick, or traveling overseas. One guy even went so far as to retire from the building trade after looking at it. What was it about the manual that was so off-putting? I looked at it, flicked through it, felt a headache coming on. I rang the supplier again and explained the difficulties we were having in getting someone to erect our shed. They were surprised, nonplussed, partly interested. I asked them if they would erect it and they quoted an amount of money that frightened me, which perhaps was their intention. We would have to pay for the workers’ accommodation and food for five days, travel time and fuel. They were happy to assist over the phone, and really, anyone with a bit of nous could do it, they said, which somehow came across as an insult.
Weeks passed. So frustrating. Michael the concreter came, concreted and left behind a beautiful slab, just waiting and ready with the shed components stacked beside it.
Jackson’s dog, Archie, wondering where the builder is.
I went back to the builders we’d already contacted and asked them - well, begged really, to reconsider - we’d pay cash, provide food, alcohol…gold. Radio silence. I became hyper-aware of anyone who looked even vaguely like a builder on the roads around Stanthorpe and if there was a phone number on the door of their ute, I’d stalk them until I got it written down. Nothing. We tried to coerce a good friend of ours who lives in Sydney to come up for a ‘holiday’ with the family and build the shed - how much fun would that be? But again, once he saw the manual he backed off. - I think they went to Bali to rule out any chance of getting roped in. Oh, how I hated that bloody good-for-nothing manual.
Then Smash came home from seeing a band in the Valley one Friday night, all excited because he’d met a guy called Cowboy Tom* who was a builder. They’d had a good chat, a few drinks and by the end of the night, Cowboy Tom had agreed to come down to Nundubbermere and get the bloody thing up, mate. We would feed him, ply him with red wine, give him a bed to sleep in and pay him an hourly rate for however long it took to get the job done. The only problem with the plan was CT’s wife was due to have a baby in a couple of weeks; they already had a kid who was a bit of a handful, he explained, and his missus would get the shits if he wasn’t around to help out. He could do it right now, or in a few months’ time.
‘Now’, we pleaded.
‘He’s a bit of a character’, Smash explained to me. ‘Quite entertaining.’
I didn’t care whether he was dull as ditch water, so long as he got the job done. We arranged to meet him the next weekend on site.
