So you think you already personally know the world's worst? Believe me, my dad takes the cake. Even people who know what he's like are horrified at things he does.

Most people are capable of simple renovations and do an okay job, right? So how my father ruins so many things is beyond comprehension. Take the bathroom, for example. It's been undergoing renovation since 1986. The new toilet bowl got cracked as he installed it. No problem, just add another layer of cement around the bottom! It matches the floor tiles (cracked and crooked, and sloping away from the drain). He replaced a wall in there, dropped the hammer, and broke the cistern lid. That wall already needs replacing - his new pipes to the bath leaked inside the concrete and rotted his brand new wall. He only realized when mysterious wet patches appeared in the next room.

That room is the laundry. Wallpaper costs money, so one section is covered in 5-inch leftovers. When the hot water system failed, he bought a tiny one second-hand. It didn't reach the existing pipes, so rather than move them, it's sitting on a wooden box. The linoleum on the floor shows some rectangular object under it. I've no idea what it is, but for some reason he left it there when gluing the floor down.

Then there's the roof guttering. When it needed replacing, the company advised the need for a support clip every six feet. Dad decided to save a few dollars by putting one every ten. So the guttering bent and fell off - what's left of it spews a deluge.

That deluge lands on the front porch. He gave it one coat of paint instead of three, so there isn't much left of the paint at all. And hardwood was too expensive, so he used cheap timber for the railing (needless to say, it's rotting to pieces under the deluge from the fallen guttering).

My mother has learned to sigh and just live with it all. His fireplace project failed when he learned it was bricked solid behind the wall he had already torn out. Instead of replacing the wall with sheet plaster, he used pieces of wood he had lying around. It's easier to cover the patchwork wall with furniture than to expect my father fix it.

In the early 90s he decided to extend the house. The back sliding door jams, the windows still have their prices written on in permanent marker, the carpet isn't attached the floor, there are no skirting boards and the ceiling is yet to have its cornices finished. The outside isn't painted yet.

He has now bought a block of land, had plans drawn up and intends to build a house on it. Three years have passed and so far, we have a couple of holes and a few stacks of bricks. But he says it will be beautiful, and he WILL finish it!

Any day now.

Learn more about this author, Eliza Sininen.
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