I have chosen the black background because it suits the occasion. Today the builders moved into my neighbourhood and began the housing development that we fought so hard to prevent. We aren’t “nimbys” (not in my back yard). It’s just that the plot is a wooded relief, designated a conservation area, in our already over-developed village and we had got used to the big oaks, wild life and general sense of rural peace that the site provides and is otherwise all but lost here. I’m not saying that all was wonderful – the old bungalow that they demolished today (one of two on the site) was an eye-sore and when I have the time and inclination I will share the history of it, but not now. I wish I had taken a photograph of the old place for posterity, but it is too late now because it’s gone and a pile of rubble is all that is left! I will call it “Alice’s bungalow”, because she was its last owner before the developer bought it. I still have time to capture the other one – that too has an almost unbelievable history, but not for now. When I have a moment I will chronicle the recent past, of the two lost bungalows, to this virtual world and then I can enjoy my first attempt at hyper-linking so that you can go there and “explore” if you are minded.
Back to today – it didn’t start well. I heard the first lorry go past at about 7.30 am – I thought that start and end times were restricted to minimise nuisance to neighbours. This is the case, but there are exceptions – like today (the first day), when the council apparently agreed to an early delivery of a digger thingy for the demolition, before the approved eight o’clock start, so that the huge transporter lorry dropping it off didn’t block the road at rush hour nor pose a threat to school children. If I still had children of school age I might appreciate this as a genuine sign of good practice, but since mine aren’t, my thoughts are selfishly centred on my rude awakening by the invading machines. The cynic in me also thinks “how convenient” for the developer that he can secure an early start, out of consideration for the school children, when he so cleverly diminished our arguments about the long-term safety of local children during the drawn-out planning application. Is it just me?
I challenged the very nice and well-rehearsed “construction director”. He was a gentleman. I could not have been a pretty or welcome sight for him at 7.45 am on a grey summer morning. He has a job to do. I told him it isn’t personal, but I will be watching. Unfortunately for both of us, I am a teacher and my term is about to end, so I have the rest of the summer to spy on them. He gave me his card, put the digger driver on hold until 8.00 am and smiled. The blog will help. I can vent my spleen and still (hopefully) retain my sanity, family and friends!
I wish that I could say things got better as the day progressed (I work four days a week and today is my day off). Even the wind was against us. It seemed to blow every bit of dust over to me. Significant amounts of Alice’s bricks and mortar are very likely to end up in my hoover bag, which is especially annoying as I spent the week-end doing house work. I hate it and subscribe (in theory) to Joan River’s observation that the trouble with it is that in six months time you have to do it all again! It was raining and I had nothing much else on, but I resent the wasted effort. I decided that I must look for the silver lining and jumped upon my business card. Perhaps they would agree to pay to clean my windows at least!
My friendly construction director was not available and I got someone, seemingly from the higher end of the developer’s pole, who introduced himself as “John”, but who later turned out be Giles (never trust them, not even with their name). I now know to ask for more details before speaking to any of them on the telephone. I had decided to be neutral and business-like, but John took this to be showing an “attitude”. My request for some cleaning compensation, which I admittedly said that I “wanted”, met with his clear disapproval. Obviously used to cap-doffing, he advised me that if I chose to change my tone, and re-phrase my request with “would like” instead of “want”, he may be minded to discuss the matter with me. I felt like telling him to stuff his “would like” where the sun doesn’t shine, but refrained and instead declared my withdrawal from the conversation and my intention to continue discussions with planning enforcement, which I have duly done (watch this space for outcomes). A final word to John/Giles – my old professor encapsulated the danger of promotion thus – the higher up the greasy pole you go, the more unpleasant the view from the bottom!
And now the final word of the day – I don’t like bullies, so I asked my other half to make the last call of the day. He was cool, calm and efficient. He didn’t get John, because there is no John (I was mistaken, apparently). Giles wasn’t there, but had seriously misrepresented our conversation – no surprise, given that he had earlier misrepresented himself! I know I am getting on a bit, but there is no problem with my hearing. My other half set down the facts (he’s a policeman and works with facts and evidence), put our case and, surprise, surprise, was told that we could all have a clean start tomorrow – I hope that it is more than a metaphorical clean start!
"The site"
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