The mirror crack’d from side to side

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I’ve been out of luck with mirrors recently. First there was the mystery of the mirror in our bedroom, fitted flush to the wall and leaving me baffled. The folks who owned our house previously had seven daughters, a veritable deluge of God’s mercy. It may be relevant to mention at this stage they were Plymouth Brethren. Anyway in a house that boasted two bathrooms and a downstairs WC you can understand why the parents of these seven wonders wanted a shower, sink, mirror and shaving light in their bedroom.

We decommissioned the shower, it always seemed a bit weird and my shirts needed the hanging space. The sink stayed as a small dust trap until we had that removed too, which left the mirror and the shaving light. TBH asked me to replace the mirror with a full length one, and that’s how you find me standing in front of it with screwdrivers and a bolster, in a state of confusion.

I’d taken down the tiles, stripped the silicone, removed the light and still the mirror would not move. My reflection mocked me as I pressed and tugged and shimmied, cursing the over zealous fool that had recessed the fittings.

Inevitably my prying and pulling led to the sharp report of glass. Shards flew everywhere. There were no recessed fittings. The mirror was glued to the wall. Half a dozen generous blobs of what looked like tile adhesive. Who the hell glues up a mirror? For whom is life so certain, so immune from the prospect of change that they permanently fix a mirror over a tiny sink under a shaving light beside a shower built into a bedroom? Seven daughters should teach a man that nothing stays the same. (I later learned that gluing mirrors to the wall is actually a thing and not weird. Who knew? Certainly not me.)

The new mirror is an IKEA job with fittings you can see. It slides out because one day someone won’t want a mirror there. This is called foresight.

There is one other mirror in the house that I now realise to be glued. I think the right way to remove them is with garroting wire. Understandably this is not something you can buy on the high street. When we redo that bathroom I may have to hire an assassin to get it down for me, but let’s not go borrowing trouble just now.

The other mirror disaster was in Bob’s room (pictured above). I recycled another inherited mirror from the previous owners into a specially made frame. Rebated, routed edges, mitred corners, I felt like a true disciple of Norm Abram. The top screw went in just fine, the lower one I overtightened by a bare fraction and CLICK. The mirror crack’d from side to side.

“Shhh…” I stopped myself from saying as both Bob and Bill were there to “help”.

Hours in the workshop wasted. I was devastated, I’d made this thing for Bob and it was ruined.

She’s a good kid, she’s perched her collection of lip balms on the little shelf to hide the worst of the damage. Maybe the mirror can stay as a permanent addition to the room, and I guess my two mouthy gorgeous doses of God’s mercy are just plenty. So God in his mercy lend them grace, as uncle Alfred almost wrote, and they can check it in the mirror.

End.

BTW we have found nothing untoward behind any of the mirrors, unlike here.

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8 thoughts on “The mirror crack’d from side to side

  1. THat’s quite a tale of woe Ali. Your Daughter’s solution to covering up the cracks is ingenious πŸ™‚

    I’m not sure that wire would help with glued mirrors – depends how old the glue is. I think you might be better accepting that your going to break the mirror getting it off the wall. So, put some sticky back plastic on it first and then apply some judicious hits with a hammer in areas where you think it isn’t glued to the wall. The plastic should keep most of the broken glass under control for you and you’ll be left with relatively small areas still stuck to the wall. Fortunately, we don’t have any glued mirrors, just tiles in the bathroom πŸ™‚

    Liked by 1 person

    • Martin, thanks for the tape advice, I should really have thought of that rather than relying on Dyson to clean up the mess.

      Something inside me rebels at the thought of wasting a serviceable mirror (and yes I am that guy with a garage full of “might come in handy one day” items).

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  2. Glad no one was hurt in the mirrors’ removal. Hoping for more of the same with the other glued one. I haven’t read Uncle Alfred in many years . . . Victorian lit class in university, I think. Are you advocating for him, Ali? πŸ™‚ Perhaps you ought write a modern-day Shalott (Our Lady of Kale would be appropriate in the US.–gees, how horrid a pun!). Anyway, love imbibing this slice of life from your family to mine (well, to me at least).

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    • I’d have run with The Lady of Cilantro, mainly because it would annoy everyone I know (coriander, darling). In fact that could have been the theme for the poem: the chopping board crackd from side to side. You’re a genius Leigh, I wanted to do something to enter this year’s Wergle Flump, and I might just have it πŸ™‚

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      • I say, go for it. Sounds delightful. You might also like to have a hand at the Bulwer-Lytton competition. I’ve got something cooking for Wergle, but I know it’s really, really hard to pique their interest with a parody, with the judges that they currently have, anyway. I doubt they get that many Tennysonians (?is that a word), however. I tried a Browning parody, I think, in the past, as well as a Frost (the latter seems to be a no-no for them now, or at least a no-no from my skill level!). Anywho, would be awesome to see The Lady of Cilantro, Ali. Can’t wait for your cunning plan to hatch. πŸ™‚

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