the garage

Black glossy clay tiles transformed house into villa. What a surprise, then, that the old steel roof of the garage was getting more and more like sand in the eye. Eventually, I could no longer bear looking at it…

Where does it end? Where does the universe end? Exactly. It doesn’t. It expands. Like a German army.


Underneath the steel roof, I found three different layers of old tar-coated felt. Each layer was fastened with a trillion small nails. Each layer, older than Alexander The Great, was so frail it broke off in tiny bits. If you believe you can imagine the time and frustration, you are probably way off. I suppose most people would just have built on top of the felt… but I’m one of those who believe the greatest luxury of life is “peace of mind”.
Besides, in the old days, when dinosaurs roamed the earth, the garage had been used as a bath-house and toilet and who knows, probably a brothel or opium den, which meant that some of the wooden bits were well past their due date. There was also a gaping hole in the ceiling, the memory of an old chimney.
As can be seen, I enjoyed a fair bit of carpentry underneath the roof, as well. Tiles are heavier, thus reinforced. Loved that! Looks good, too.

And then, hey presto. No sand in my eye, no sand in my mind.