The Black Soup Cometh
This is one of my favourite world proverbs:
In a situation where an English-speaker would say “We’re not out of the woods yet”, a Hungarian peasant will mutter darkly, “Hátravan még a feketeleves” - “The black soup is yet to come”.
This dates from the 17th-century Turkish conquest, when the Hungarians were amazed and intrigued to find that after every meal their new masters consumed a small bowl of something hot, black and bitter. Well-bred Turks, of course, don’t discuss business till dinner is over and the coffee has been brought; so it wasn’t till the “black soup” made its appearance that you would learn about your new taxes, your entire village’s forcible emigration to Bulgaria, your death sentence, or whatever.
Well, the black soup has come for us all right, with a vengeance. After eight months of building works, all was finally coming to an end: the contractors said that the last little job they would do would be to strip the manky tar-paper off the lean-to roof of the extension over the kitchen sink and replace it with decent lead. No doubt there would be a bit of rotten wood here and there under it, as it has been leaking for years whenever the rainwater hopper gets blocked with leaves and overflows, but nothing they couldn’t fix in a day…
So, the day before they were due to hand the keys back and depart, the tar paper came off. And, guess what? We had all been convinced that the lean-to was part of the numerous alterations that were made to the house in the 1970s; that being so, the main support was bound to be either a steel or a concrete beam. But, not so! It must have been created some time in the 19th century, because the thing (in fact the whole side of the house) is being held up by a massive re-used ship’s timber, which is now so rotten that both its ends are missing and Adrian-the-site-manager lost a 5-inch screwdriver in the middle. The surveyor was called, leapt back in alarm and told Adrian to put steel supports under it. I’ll do that first thing in the morning, replied Adrian. No, said the surveyor, that could come down at any time and bring half the house with it. Do it NOW.
So, here I am, squeezing between two steel Acroprops to work at the kitchen sink, while our professionals try to work out how to repair this (1: replace the ends and pin the middle. 2. fill the whole thing with resin. 3. take out the whole beam and replace it). Then we can start to work out how we’re going to pay for it. Option 1 would be cheapest, if it works. 2 is pricey but relatively straightforward. 3 - just don’t go there; a massive structural job, and a timber of that size alone would cost a bomb.
Ah well, never a dull moment; we may yet have to hold a birthday party for our house restoration project…
In a situation where an English-speaker would say “We’re not out of the woods yet”, a Hungarian peasant will mutter darkly, “Hátravan még a feketeleves” - “The black soup is yet to come”.
This dates from the 17th-century Turkish conquest, when the Hungarians were amazed and intrigued to find that after every meal their new masters consumed a small bowl of something hot, black and bitter. Well-bred Turks, of course, don’t discuss business till dinner is over and the coffee has been brought; so it wasn’t till the “black soup” made its appearance that you would learn about your new taxes, your entire village’s forcible emigration to Bulgaria, your death sentence, or whatever.
Well, the black soup has come for us all right, with a vengeance. After eight months of building works, all was finally coming to an end: the contractors said that the last little job they would do would be to strip the manky tar-paper off the lean-to roof of the extension over the kitchen sink and replace it with decent lead. No doubt there would be a bit of rotten wood here and there under it, as it has been leaking for years whenever the rainwater hopper gets blocked with leaves and overflows, but nothing they couldn’t fix in a day…
So, the day before they were due to hand the keys back and depart, the tar paper came off. And, guess what? We had all been convinced that the lean-to was part of the numerous alterations that were made to the house in the 1970s; that being so, the main support was bound to be either a steel or a concrete beam. But, not so! It must have been created some time in the 19th century, because the thing (in fact the whole side of the house) is being held up by a massive re-used ship’s timber, which is now so rotten that both its ends are missing and Adrian-the-site-manager lost a 5-inch screwdriver in the middle. The surveyor was called, leapt back in alarm and told Adrian to put steel supports under it. I’ll do that first thing in the morning, replied Adrian. No, said the surveyor, that could come down at any time and bring half the house with it. Do it NOW.
So, here I am, squeezing between two steel Acroprops to work at the kitchen sink, while our professionals try to work out how to repair this (1: replace the ends and pin the middle. 2. fill the whole thing with resin. 3. take out the whole beam and replace it). Then we can start to work out how we’re going to pay for it. Option 1 would be cheapest, if it works. 2 is pricey but relatively straightforward. 3 - just don’t go there; a massive structural job, and a timber of that size alone would cost a bomb.
Ah well, never a dull moment; we may yet have to hold a birthday party for our house restoration project…