Wrapping up the house - 1

So that's it. A new heating system installed and working and then we just sit back and relax.

I don't think so. Not our style at all.

It's like this. The house we moved into some six months ago is perfect for us in so many ways and yet, in so many others, it is not. The central heating was originally powered from a large gas tank which now sits (empty) in the front garden. We are delighted to have installed Air-Source heating but we still have the issue that whatever heat we put into the house vanishes as soon as it arrives because the house has no insulation in its walls. We are not unique in this, of course, but somehow the very thought that the more heat we create for ourselves living inside the house, the more leaks out, makes us feel uncomfortable. What seems to be happening is that our new heating system is warming up the whole of Scotland, a futile and hideously expensive concept.

So alongside installing new heating we have always had another plan. This involves wrapping up the house in something that keeps the heat in; it is called thermal insulation. There are various ways of doing this, of course, but the one considered most suitable for us is an external insulating layer secured to the outside of each wall in such a way that the inside heat can no longer escape. This, combined with insulation beneath the floor, from where even more heat is disappearing, seems the best way to make the house cozy and warm.

And so it begins...

This is the before picture...but then we wait and wait. We're told the work will start 'next week' but strangely this phrase doesn't mean what we thought it might.

One thing is clear though. Our house has walls that start high above ground level, it is a bungalow on stilts, so scaffolding has to be erected before anything can start.

Then without warning one day a lorry turns up and a few hours later the view out of our windows changes.

It occurs to us that once work starts we must be prepared to have workmen peering in from outside so when emerging from the shower, for example, an element of caution will be required.

Our house stands out due to its high position poised above the harbour. Anyone glancing upwards now and it is the pointed bristles of the supporting poles that catch the eye.

There's no hiding what is going on, even from a distance the scaffolding is visible so the whole village will be keen to see what happens next, as indeed are we. But a week goes by and still there's no sign of any insulation going on.

Oh, but wait a minute. What's that van outside. Plumbers? Early one morning there's a team of fit young men are making alterations to our gutter drainage pipes so the insulation can be fitted on. This is promising. And then we hear from George, our contract manager for the project, who tells us work will start next week. Now where have I heard that before?

One surprise was when a couple of very pleasant chaps started unloading stacks of insulation materials onto our garden, then coming back with another load which they stacked up on the roadside. (Some of this was later picked up by a gust of wind and scattered across the road, before being retrieved by some helpful neighbours.) It certainly looks like all this stuff could keep the house warm if it were stuck onto our walls so I suppose we should be grateful for this.

Another van, a white one, pulls up outside and a young man emerges, smiling broadly. With his strong Scottish accent he tells us he alone will be screwing the insulating panels to our walls, and for the next day and a half, despite the torrential rain showers, that is what he does. Inside the house the noise of his drilling is deafening but the speed he works is impressive so we do not complain. The next morning he is back and so is the rain, continuous and heavy. By lunchtime he is tired and wet but he has only one wall left to do.

Our house gradually disappears behind a layer of grey polystyrene and granules from where the panels have been sawn and shaped cover the ground outside. But this is only part one. There's much more to come.

Wrapping up the house - 2

Stage two of the wrapping up process involves adding a coat of render, sometimes known as pebbledash, outside of the insulation to make the house look clean and new as well as giving it lasting protection against the elements. This is a messy process and since we still need to see through the windows these are covered with some protective blue plastic which can be peeled off later.

The effect of this on us inside the house is quite strange. It changes our skin colour and makes us look ill.

Two layers of render are trowelled on and before the second coat is dry, handfuls of small stones are thrown at it, most of which embed themselves and stick on to leave a rough, external surface. Unsurprisingly this process ends up with the ground all around the house looking like a shingle beach but the net effect on the walls is another change of colour, very pleasing to the eye. We feel sorry for the two guys doing this work while wind and rain lash down on them in varying amounts but they don't complain.

Our garden becomes a workplace for cutting some new window cills, whilst clonking noises from around the house suggests there are other bits being finished off. In all it is a full week during which we have confined ourselves inside our blue tinted house.

But we are not idle. Not daring to venture outside with handfuls of stones being thrown about and scaffolding bars to bash our heads on we decide to tackle the kitchen ceiling, the first stage in a planned full-on revamp. We begin by attaching a narrow aluminium shelf to the walls around the perimeter some twenty centimetres below the existing ceiling. This has to be perfectly level, even though the ceiling itself is decidedly not, as it supports aluminium runners which stretch from one end of the room to the other, spaced at precise intervals, and then cross pieces which go from side to side. Further support comes from wires suspended from brackets screwed into the ceiling.

All this is done carefully with precise measuring as the grid of squares supports shiny new panels, three of which provide bright white light once they are connected up.

This whole process takes three full days, at the end of which we have achieved a remarkable transformation. We can hardly believe our eyes. The light panels are so bright that even the blue light coming through the window is overcome. We have hidden a messy uneven ceiling with a smooth, clean structure suspended below it. Stage one of the kitchen master plan is complete.

And no sooner is this done when suddenly the blue plastic is peeled away (it has done its job) so daylight once again floods in. We now have insulated and watertight walls such as the house has never seen before. There's just one further job to do now. We have insulation above us in the roof and around us outside the walls but beneath the house there is a well ventilated space with only our carpets to stop the cold air coming up from below. To cure this we need insulation, more of it, and this is the final part of the plan.

It seems everything must happen in one busy week as no sooner are the walls done when another van stops outside, this one being full of mineral fibre which is unrolled then pinned up from below to the underside of our floors, held in place by netting. It is not a pleasant job - we feel sorry for the two men working on this - but it takes only a few hours and they are done. Finally we have a cozy house.

Surely nothing else can happen to enhance our lives in this one hectic week. Or so we thought...

It is four months now since we used up the last whiff of gas from the tank in the front garden. Since then we have been keen to have the rusty old thing removed, a service only the gas supplier can provide.

This week it happened and it has been captured on video as The Flying Tank.