Chapter I – Storm of the Decade

“Is this a joke?”

I had just popped a bottle of champagne, dropped a knee, and asked Issy to marry me. Doing it at 34 means that while the drop was athletic, the remount contained enough creaks to seed an immediate doubt about a long and prosperous future with me.

Doubts aside, she eventually said yes. But only after I explained that it was indeed, not a joke. Although it was coincidentally a well timed distraction from the state of the room where the events were unfolding. The ring, a giant gold horseshoe with sapphires, was also not helping my case.

“We can have a barn dance in the brewery ruins!”

So, you have bought a house in dire need of repair, you have no experience, what does one do first? The answer is to drink a few bottles of champagne, make some rotisserie chicken sandwiches, and hope that we survive the night.

Indeed we did survive, despite the passel of possums in the roof. Even as I write this, a month later, the possums have not relinquished any territory. In the catastrophic heat on January 9, the roof must have exceeded any survivable temperature for a mammal, yet there they were, tucked up in bed.

I suppose they have had possession of the house for a number of years, so they are unlikely to give it up without significant protest. It is 15 years of on-going hostile occupancy for a claim in adverse possession in Victoria. I expect they could make a pretty good case. They certainly are not hiding the fact that they are there. And its certainly hostile.

Upon further research, it turns out that adverse possession is one of the very few exceptions to the indefeasibility of title. That means that while the previous caveators can no longer have a claim against us -as the title has now transferred to us- the possums do. I best interrupt their hostile occupancy soon.

Timing could not really have been worst for our first month with the house. We had tickets to a music festival, Christmas with multiple visitors, and Issy was working 3 hours away. There was also a 2 month period where we thought the contract was going to fall through, and we lived larger than new homeowners about to acquire a dilapidated house should have. We were regretting the retail and hospitality therapy we afforded ourselves over November.

We decided that our first goals should remain humble, to ease ourselves into it. We should cut back any tree, shrub, or bush that had made its way into the house, prepare for January with an asbestos report and book an electrician to get an oven in, as well as giving the livable areas a good scrub. We also had to sit down and do some planning for January. The first whole month that I would be out here most of the time, and we could start making the house livable.

The first full weekend we spent there was in Mid December. I went out on Friday to meet the asbestos Jim, from Jim’s asbestos.

“Did you know, that over 2700 building products contain asbestos?”

“is that right?…My name is Alex by the way”

See this window? Yep asbestos.

That vinyl floor? Yep asbestos.

Is that milk in your coffee? I can’t be sure, but maybe…asbestos.

Asbestos Jim did an excellent job at putting the fear of god into me. He regaled a number of stories of unsuspecting people, who, sometimes after years, decide to clear their conscience and get their home or workplace tested. All the stories ended in “Riddled with the stuff”.

Ultimately, we can’t afford to get someone in to take down every bit of building that might be asbestos but the Inspector did give me pause to consider our use of PPE and generally staying safe. Issy is a Doctor and I work at the Coroner’s Court, so it would be professionally embarrassing for both of us to have an incident, acute or chronic. So I have subsequently bought respirators that look like props from a sci-fi film.

Thankfully, the report came back and the house is asbestos free (probably). Part of the house predates asbestos’ use in buildings, and part of it postdates when its harms became apparent. But fear not, we will mask up whenever fine particles are airborne.

While Asbestos Jim went around the house taking samples, I tackled the overgrowing bushes outside the kitchen window.  Such is the competition for sunlight in this particular garden, some of the plants have sought better, more prosperous life, through the house.

I spent a few hours cutting, tearing, and ripping out the garden bed. My first stint of manual labour since working at the winery in 2022. It was cathartic, and I felt my soft city white collar body, temporarily toughen, shortly before an intense exhaustion overcame me. I would like to say that that night, I slept the best I have ever had, but see above regarding the possums.

One other benefit of my efforts was that Asbestos Jim, after watching my efforts over a couple of hours, showed me a bit more respect. Respect, not afforded to me at our initial meeting, upon finding out about that I occasionally work from home, behind a desk, seated.

The other section of house that required cutting back was the laundry. What started as a beautiful ivy type creeper, has evolved into significant tree with multiple thick trunks, many with diameters over 10cm. It is not often someone can collect a significant amount of firewood from their decorative creeper.

Multiple rounds of round up, severing the limbs at the ground, and several cut backs, and the tree still lives. The tree has actually been composting its own fallen leaves on the roof, creating its own self sufficient ecosystem. Undoubtedly fertilised by possum droppings on an periodic and ongoing basis.

We have slowed our efforts for now until it dies completely, as the limbs have wrapped and penetrated the mortar of the chimney. As tempting as it is to rip it down, I fear the chimney will come down with it. For now it is being used as what we have now called the possum superhighway, back to their roof.

After our first big session of cutting back the creeper, we treated ourself to a nice bottle of Rosé in the garden, savoring the early evening sun. This was what it was all about. On the multiple occasions we thought the sale was falling though over the last 6 months, our first lament was always but the Rosé in the garden!

Within minutes, clouds roll through. What will turn out to be the biggest storm in a decade passes over Maldon. What are the fucking chances.

We stand in the entrance hall, a poorly constructed extension that connects the old 1850’s house, with the kitchen at the rear. Watching through the window, golf ball size hail starts to land on the brick. The brick, now that I look at it, slopes towards the house.  We see water gush in through to the foundations, that we can see through the rotten floor boards. Foolishly late, but it occurs to me that this house needs more than an oven and a lick of paint.

Oh well, we knew there were issues with the foundations in this room. At least we know why! But how good! The roof is still watertight, despite the savage intensity of the rain.

Right on cue, water starts dripping through the already rotting plaster and architraves. Just a few drops, not a big deal.

Then it starts flowing.

Then it starts showering.

Before long, we give up on the search for sufficiently sized receptacles to catch the water. It is a totally fruitless effort. I stand in awe as Issy pulls out her phone and films. As someone with a spectacular ability to accept things out of her control, she starts laughing. As someone who has an equally spectacular ability to lose their sense of humour, I do not.

Mercifully, while it was one of the most intense storms I have ever experienced, it was inversely short. As the water subsided back to drops, Issy, insufferably optimistic, says at least we know where the issue is, and was ‘stoked’ the rest of the roof held up.

Issy’s parents were our first guests. I knew Issy’s mum would love it, and I knew her dad would hate it. But, I was also hoping that with a September settlement, where I would have 3 months to at least mask the more concerning elements from them. Alas, we had 2 weekends.

I covered the rotting corner with ply wood, patched the floor, and gave the property an all mighty whipper snip. Floorboards that were about to give way were also covered with a structural rug. It felt like I was doing an assignment the night before it was due. Luckily, while there are many parts of this house that intimidate, there are far more that charm.

Simon arrived first, mercifully, in the fading light. I gave him a tour and he was at least polite enough to hide his concerns. We took a nice bushwalk through Tarrengower to the pub, where Issy met us, having driven from work in Wangaratta. Whatever concerns he had about the property, I am sure he was won over by the bushland surrounds. And the excellent blues band playing on High Street.

After a short Maldon pub crawl, we wandered back and saw the new year in, Simon, Issy, myself, and the possums, Champagne in hand, enclosed footwear equipped, and the promise of what will undoubtedly be an eventful year.