My Exciting Journey: Building The Perfect Home Recording Booth For Voice Overs-Part Five (More Adhesive & Plasterboard Mayhem)

This weekend, I levelled up, but not in a metaphorical, self-help-book way - in a physically dragging-34kg-of-plasterboard-through-my-house kind of way. Twice. These two slabs had to journey from the driveway, round tigááht corners and past curious furniture, out into the garden for cutting. Honestly, it felt like auditioning for a strongman competition: Deadlift your way to decibels!

The house became a maze of dropped tools, half-drunk cups of tea, and whispered profanity as I juggled tape measures, stair climbs, and half-remembered YouTube tutorials. But after hours of wrestling unruly boards and dancing around the “don’t step on that” zone, we finally fixed two 12.5mm layers of plasterboard to the soundboard. The result? A wall so solid it could double as a panic room or bunker (I kid, it's not that great) perfect for keeping my voice in and the neighbour’s lawnmower out.

Sealant Betrayal & Toolstation Salvation

Ah, sealant. The quiet hero of all acoustics, the gloop that binds our dreams, and walls, together...well that's until Amazon bungles your order. Next-day delivery was promised, as always. With great confidence. Then… “Oops, two weeks, maybe?” Cue the sad trombone :-(

With deadlines and soundproofing momentum on the line, I caved and Toolstation became my salvation. I bought the industrial-sized acoustic sealant and a caulking gun that wouldn’t look out of place in a sci-fi arsenal. It wasn’t necessarily cheap but it was available. At this point, I’m measuring progress not only in screws sunk and boards mounted, but pounds spent on things I didn’t realise I’d need until five seconds before I needed them. I'm so sorry overdraft...

Smooth Moves & Colour Conundrums

With the walls officially up, next comes the satisfying chaos of orbital sanding. It’s noisy, dusty, and gives off a very “space-welder with ADHD” vibe which is exactly the break I need. This will likely be done in the next few days if I can find the energy...

Then comes paint. I’ve got my eye on orange: a colour with energy and a vibrant warmth. A colour that says "let’s create something epic in here." But I’m caught in that classic DIY limbo: Do I prime the raw plasterboard with a white base coat to prevent it soaking up all that vibrant pigment like a sponge with a vitamin D deficiency? Or do I glue up some cheap lining paper first to give the walls a bit more texture and help the orange cling on with pride? OR do I do the proper thing and plaster over it although I know that's going to be the most costly option...

It’s the kind of decision that won’t appear in anyone’s memoir, but here I am, agonising over it like I’m choosing a tattoo.

Ceiling Shenanigans & the Curious Case of the Underlay

The ceiling is the next boss battle. It’s textured, because of course it is, and I’m deeply unconvinced my acoustic foam panels will bond well to its lumpy prehistoric terrain. Stripping it is now on the cards, which feels like attempting dental work with a butter knife: delicate, slow, and vaguely soul-draining.

Meanwhile, the floor has its own complaints. Although I've now eliminated 95% of the creaking and squeaking from hoovering up the debris between the boards and screwing them down instead of relying on the puny nails that were placed a hundred years ago...the underlay’s slightly torn in places, and budget-wise, the dream carpet is currently floating in some alternate universe where wallets are plump and impulse purchases don’t haunt you. I’m toying with the idea of laying down some sheep’s wool beneath the carpet, should I ever acquire one, as a kind of makeshift cushion and acoustic boost. Nothing says luxury like rustic agricultural layering, right? I mean, if it worked in the walls...it can work on the floor...right?

Still Standing (Just About)

So, we’re now at the stage where the bones are in place. The recording booth is taking form. There's sanding to do, paint to agonise over, foam to test, and about eight thousand more small jobs waiting to be discovered the moment I think I’m nearly done. But honestly? I’m proud. It’s scrappy. It’s improvised. It’s become more expensive than I budgeted for (like all DIY jobs in the world). But it’s happening.

And when it’s finished...when I shut that door and it’s just me, the mic, and the hush of handcrafted silence... it’ll all be worth it.