It's always a mistake to sing the praises of the peace and solitude of my garden. The last time I did it I went out the following morning to discover that the badgers had trashed the strawberry bed in an attempt to dig out a bumblebees' nest. This time it's to be painfully aware of the start of the property-development project taking place next door.
First to arrive are the machines, a small, agile digger and a shiny yellow dumper truck. My three year old neighbour from over the road is thrilled.
Next to go are the fences which have ensured my privacy for the last twenty years or more.
Then comes the testosterone - buckets of it. The Earth-Moving team, then the Fencing team. The machines are switched on, as is the radio.
There are about seven men in a small garden. It's very hot, so there are lots of tattoos on display. Then they shout to each other over the noises of the machines and the radio. A lot of what they shout starts and finishes with, 'F***'. Not so good for the three year old neighbour.
The agile digger swings around, occasionally bashing into my unprotected garden plants.
I go out to confront one of the Fencing team who is lopping at a beautiful little acer - my beautiful little acer.
I tell him he has no right to do that. He says he has to, and chops a bit more just to make the point.
A huge lorry with hoist and grabber makes frequent roaring appearances at the front of my house to remove debris.
The digger is used as a hammer to pound at the concrete on the driveway. My house shakes.
The 'F***ing' continues.
Welcome to the world of property development.
22nd July.
Two of the workmen apologised for the foul language, saying they realised I was a lady.
Perhaps they even read the blog?
First to arrive are the machines, a small, agile digger and a shiny yellow dumper truck. My three year old neighbour from over the road is thrilled.
Next to go are the fences which have ensured my privacy for the last twenty years or more.
Then comes the testosterone - buckets of it. The Earth-Moving team, then the Fencing team. The machines are switched on, as is the radio.
There are about seven men in a small garden. It's very hot, so there are lots of tattoos on display. Then they shout to each other over the noises of the machines and the radio. A lot of what they shout starts and finishes with, 'F***'. Not so good for the three year old neighbour.
The agile digger swings around, occasionally bashing into my unprotected garden plants.
I go out to confront one of the Fencing team who is lopping at a beautiful little acer - my beautiful little acer.
I tell him he has no right to do that. He says he has to, and chops a bit more just to make the point.
A huge lorry with hoist and grabber makes frequent roaring appearances at the front of my house to remove debris.
The digger is used as a hammer to pound at the concrete on the driveway. My house shakes.
The 'F***ing' continues.
Welcome to the world of property development.
22nd July.
Two of the workmen apologised for the foul language, saying they realised I was a lady.
Perhaps they even read the blog?
My experience of 'property development' has left me cynical about it, particularly the 'development' bit. Commiserations, and I hope the fence is high and soundproof.
ReplyDeleteOh no! Just what you need for your peaceful recovery isn't it? I hope it isn't going to be a long drawn out job? We've been there and it's horrible I remember especially seeing one's precious plants being damaged. My heart goes out to you.
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ReplyDeleteP.Pete and Marigold: Thank you for the comments. The new fence is high but regrettably not soundproof. I'm being a miserable old biddy. It's got to be done (although I'm not sure about that comment), but seeing plants damaged is the worst thing.
ReplyDeleteNot the best timing is it, RR, even if it has to be done.
ReplyDeleteBon courage!
Ugh. How awful. I hope it's over soon! Maybe you should find some "old biddy" kind of music and put your speaker out the window towards them and blast away!
ReplyDeleteYou do make it sound funny, although painful.
ReplyDeleteI cringe at powered trimmers and leaf blowers, but I also get lots of traffic, ambulance and fire engine sirens, squealing wheels, and booming music from car stereos that continue as long as the light to change during rush hour.
Hiss and spit. Naive curmudgeon that I am I really don't understand (and resent) why development needs to be such a close cousin of destruction. Of peace among other things.
ReplyDeletePity I can't lend you the horrid 12ft high 10ft wide laurel. They could hack at that to their heart's content!
ReplyDeletemm: the timing could have been worse as at least I'm well enough to write about it.
ReplyDeleteLeslee: there's a thought. Mozart?
Zhoen: there is a certain entertainment value, and may be even more so when they return this morning and yell their weekend adventures over the other noises.
E.C: I've been lucky not to have experienced this before.
Jee: yes, the laurel hedge would give them something to work on, but the bamboo is also proving a bit of a challenge.
Oh dear, how horrid. Grr. I hope the end result will be all right and that your plants will recover.
ReplyDeleteIsabelle: thank you. I must remember that plants generally recover with enough TLC.
ReplyDeleteWe've just had builders IN the house....but at least they were exceedingly concerned not to leave a mess!
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