Handrail – Fail

To say it took me a while to get round to this would be insulting to professional procrastinators. For 12 weeks the piece of timber was jutting out from behind my sofa just enough to obstruct the path in and out of the living room. Then for 12 full days, it was laid recklessly across my kitchen and work bench, jutting out just enough to obstruct the path in and out of the house. Every time I opened the porch door I would have to lift it and manoeuvre my body through the exit. 12 days.

I just really, really didn’t want to do this. I didn’t. I DIDN’T. I don’t want to do anything anymore. Now that I don’t live in a house of horrors, it’s hard to muster the energy when I can instead be re-watching Schitt’s Creek. How are all you friggers doing it?

First we sand

Then we measure

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Now there are many, many videos available if you would like to see how this is supposed to be done. Clearly I went rogue.

I measured the standard 36 inches from the nose of the tread straight up the wall, took off four inches to account for the rail and the bracket, and marked the top and bottom ends. Without a chalk line to hand (and you’re fucking dreaming if you think I’d buy one despite the fact I was just at B &Q and Screwfix and they are only about £5), I improvised with some linen macrame thread (lol) which didn’t work (obviously) and despite thinking I’d somehow blagged it, I just made two very large unusable holes in the wall when the brackets were about TWO FULL INCHES from their mark. How? HOW?

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All of the advice says to screw the brackets to the wall (assuming you’ve measured correctly) then screw the rail to the brackets. I chucked a tanty instead and screwed the top bracket to the wall, fully, then the rail to that bracket. Then the bottom bracket to the wall, then the rail to that bracket. This is clearly the wrong order, to accompany the wrong screws (I’m not going back to B&Q ffs), which fit well with the wrong angle, and ultimately the wrong length of rail.

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Nothing is flush, I ripped the head off a screw with my bare be-Phillipsed hands, and I drilled so far into the wall I’m pretty sure I struck iron.

I was so bored of the whole affair by this point I didn’t even measure where the middle bracket needed to go. I’m actually annoyed at myself for this because it was a genuine oversight, not a choice. I’m fine with the bad choices, it’s the absent-minded ones that I can’t live with. So it’s been nice living here and all, kind of, but I’m moving out.

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It’s done. It’s sturdy.

Obviously the timber is still unfinished because I forgot to get clear varnish at B&Q. Give me 12 months, I’ll make it a trifecta.