Hammering Away

I'm very happy to report that we are now building, not destroying, in the separate apartment. The first steels have been fixed in the construction of the new bathroom walls and the toilet waste, which had been causing concern (the poo pipe problem, as it became known) has been fitted into place. "I'm not going to let this shit beat me" said the genius. Quite so. I've worked with him long enough now to know that no 'shit' will get the better of him.

I'm not sure that the neighbours appreciate the distinction between the sawing, bashing, thumping and smashing of the demolition phase and the sawing, thumping, hammering and drilling of the construction phase. Obviously there is a world of difference but to people with no ear for music it probably all just seems like really annoying noise. For Gods sake, it's as different as garage and house - what's wrong with them?

As soon as it commenced, we have decided to put 'Operation Barney' on hold. It was playing havoc with the town's refuse disposal. The dustmen would turn up, hop out of the lorry, wheel (drag) the bin over to the hoist at the back of the truck and press the button that was supposed to lift the bin and tip it's contents into the back. The bins were so heavy that the handles were being snapped off. Mind you, I am very surprised that there is no provision for recycling in the daily collections here in the Bastide. Anyway, all debris is now being carried downstairs to an unused space on the ground floor until we can figure out how to get it from here to the 'dechetterie' - the waste disposal depot on the outskirts of town.

The ferocity of the work has also seen the demise of a much loved and much travelled friend. My lovely twenty five year old wooden handled hammer came off second best in an argument with a skirting board of indeterminate but definitely older age - snapped it's head clean off. I've put many a crooked nail into many a wall with that hammer. I'd like to say, as tribute, that the well worn wooden handle used to fit snuggly into the palm of my hand like an extension of my arm - but that would be a lie. However, I have owned it for a long time and I'm glad I was there to witness it's demise - it went down fighting.

I have, immediately, purchased a new hammer - one needs a hammer. It has a fancy, as far as I'm concerned, metal shaft and promises to hammer home all my needs. We shall see. I bet I can still do a bent nail with it.