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Posts Tagged ‘floor’

Grandparents’ houses are not usually places that seem to change a lot when you’re a kid.

I mean, sure, Grandma and Grandpa might get a new fridge once every decade, or repaint a room here or there. But for the most part, grandparents’ houses tend to stay pretty constant in terms of decor, furnishings and general appearance.

(When you’re a kid, you don’t realize that everything in your grandparents’ home lasts so long because there are no kids around to break it, dent it or wear it out.)

I can even remember a specific glass candy dish at my grandparents’ home at 1107 Hope Street that seemed to have the exact same candy in it every time I visited. They were these sorts of candies.

I do not associate the taste of hard candy with the house because I do not recall ever actually eating any. But any time I see those sort of ridged old-school candies with the patterns on the top, I think of that candy dish.

Anyway, this week’s calendar entry features a rare thing — my grandpa preparing to make a noticeable change to his home.

April 20, 1972. Now they know how many tiles it takes to fill the Albert Hall.

(Yes, this calendar entry also captures my grandpa buying another lottery ticket. Maybe even two. Perhaps he was more of a gambler than I thought. Nah. I doubt it.)

As with so many other calendar entries, I enjoy my grandpa’s attention to detail. Not only did he write down where he bought the kitchen tiles, but also how many.

I can only assume that 144 tiles was the minimum available quantity. Either that or they were tiny tiles. It wasn’t a large kitchen.

Perhaps he wrote down these details for reference purposes. Maybe he thought he was gonna retile his kitchen floor again in a few years and would need the information then.

Although, even if he did, he was the sort who would have enjoyed taking out his tape-measure afresh, sitting down again with a pad of paper and calculating how many tiles he would need to do the job.

I do not think he ever tackled the job again. I think the kitchen tiles my grandpa laid down in the spring of ’72 were still there thirteen or so years later when the wreckers came for the house.

So, I conclude that this entry is yet another in a series of monuments to detail for detail’s sake.

You know how they say, “Pictures or it didn’t happen?” Well, for my grandpa it was, “Calendar entry or it didn’t happen.”

Except — this being the Blumenau family — we took pictures, too.

I wish my kitchen were that clean. Or my laundry room, for that matter.

Peel it and stick it.

My aunt, dressed for the times, joins in.

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