Dramas in the bathroom

The new bathroom showing the level-entry glass walled shower, twin vanity, slipper bath and tiled floor and walls.

MY blood ran cold when builder John said the “L” word. In the split second that it took to utter the word “leak”, our bathroom renovation went from straightforward to scary. My husband envisaged money flying out of his wallet at an even more alarming rate.

When John took the old shower box out, he discovered the particle board flooring had turned to Weetbix, and what’s worse, the rot had extended into the toilet room next door. We had no idea the shower had been leaking but had it not been discovered, in another month we might have plummeted through the floor boards onto the ground below while showering, or worse still, while on the loo.

This was just the first of many tribulations that tested our mettle during our long-awaited bathroom makeover, which transformed our dated 80s cork-tiled floor and resurfaced apricot-coloured bath, shower and vanity into a sleek, modern bathroom with a stone-tiled floor, porcelain walls, a walk-in shower and a gleaming vanity and slipper bath.

John got to work and replaced the rotten flooring in both rooms and we were back on track after a few days.

The second major drama to befall us was the discovery that the bathroom was far from square or plumb. Be warned, don’t attempt to use large floor and wall tiles unless your bathroom is new or your builder has first ensured your walls are straight and floor is flat. An old house that has long since ceased to be plumb is a nightmare for a tiler if you choose big tiles because they are unforgiving and cannot be persuaded to bend. However, I had already fallen in love with (and ordered) 600x600 tiles that reminded me of Arrow River schist, so the die was cast.

Our tiler was dubious when he surveyed the mission ahead of him, especially lining up the floor and wall tiles but he attacked the task with great precision. He trimmed the back of the tiles in some places, packed the wall in others and pulled off some masterly L-shaped cuts around the window frames.

Old wave-shaped wallsThe old toilet room walls were wave-shaped so when it came time to fit the tiled skirting boards, there were gaps which had to be cleverly disguised.

The other surprise in store was that when the boxes of floor tiles arrived, the degree of variation was so great, I thought some of the tiles belonged to another style altogether. I knew the tiles had different patterns and the ones I had seen were all to my liking but when I opened the boxes, only a few were the same as the samples I had chosen from. Most of the others were radically different in colour and pattern. This caused great consternation but the tiler and I worked together to ensure the tiles I liked least were placed under the bath and vanity.

The overall effect is perfection — especially the level entry shower floor which is fitted with a 100 percent waterproof base, custom-made by the tiler. It is recessed into the floor and then tiled over so it’s totally invisible but hugely reassuring to have after our earlier rotten-floor fiasco.

One of the most bizarre situations we encountered involved our smart new 1200mm-long towel rail. When it was first installed, it was so hot, it scorched all the new towels I had purchased to match our new bathroom. The manufacturer’s response was that the product was not designed for high-quality thick towels — just thin towels.

Issues with the towel railFurthermore, we noticed that the hotter the day, the hotter the towel rail became. The manufacturer confirmed that the unit heated itself to 20 degrees above the ambient temperature of the room, a fact which seemed totally counterintuitive to me. Surely you want your towels warmer on a cool day than on a hot day.

The manufacturer suggested we ask our electrician to fit a dimmer dial to the unit to control the heat. This works well but surely that advice could have been given to us in the first place.

The new toilet appeared to be ready for use but it wasn’t. Luckily we checked. However, the drain-layer was super-efficient and had it hooked up in no time. The soft close lid is super cool, and would be a boon for families who have loo-seat wars.

Another potential stuff-upThere was one more major whoopsie before we were out of the woods. Potentially a major stuff-up.

When our beautiful slipper bath arrived on the deck outside the door, I was so dazzled by its gleaming white surface, it did not occur to me it might not fit through the door. My husband, who was not as blinded by it as I was, shook his head and said, “It won’t fit. We’re going to have to send it back.”

I muttered something about dead bodies, and quick as a flash, came up with plan B. I had become a dab hand with a tape measure by this stage of the reno game so I measured the bathroom window and discovered if we unscrewed the sash and took it out of the frame, we would have a one centimetre clearance. We borrowed the neighbour’s forklift and called in four burly mates to lift and manoeuvre the bath through the window. I was mightily relieved when said bath was sitting safely on the floor of the bathroom in all its glossy glory.

Here are some other valuable lessons we learnedWe spent years looking at magazines and visiting out-of-town showrooms to view vanities, showers and baths but in the long run, we opted to source all the products through a local firm. We had heard horror stories about a lack of back-up service if things went awry with an item not purchased locally.

It’s just as well we did so because our vanity drawers, light fittings and heated towel rail malfunctioned within hours of installation and we needed local tradesmen to fix them.

If you don’t have a formal plan to go by, appoint a project manager, someone with time to be on-site to answer 101 questions that arise every day like which way do you want this door to swing, where do you want your power points, what height do you want your shower head and so on.

Expect the unexpected and try to avoid tight deadlines around Christmas, a wedding at home or other important events. Give yourself a buffer zone of finishing at least a month before such events in order to minimise stress.

One of the best pieces of advice we received was to completely cover the carpet in the adjoining bedroom and hall with adhesive plastic like a mega version of gladwrap. This allowed the builder and tradesmen easy access to the work site but fully protected the carpet from dust. Needless to say we moved out of the room and left them to it.

Our plumber said he always knew when his rural clients had been staying at hotels because they came back with grandiose ideas about water pressure.

I decided I was too old to shower under a trickle so I joined the ranks of those who demanded a shower with decent pressure. Can it be done? I inquired. Yes, at a cost, he said.

So new piping and a high pressure water cylinder and several months later, I stand there luxuriating in the morning sun, with water pummelling me from the dual nozzle shower. It’s bliss. Well worth all the dramas and worry.

Now all I have to fret about is the alarming rate we seem to go through our tank water supply.

“I suppose we’ll have to get another water tank now to feed your fancy double shower nozzles,” says my husband gloomily.

Funnily enough, he’s the one who most often has both nozzles blasting at once.