The scaffolding outside the pub has come down. That meant plenty of tattooed yelping and clanging and more peering through our windows. “Look they’re coming into our house” said my daughter of the forest of poles outside, as we attempted to exit. It did look that way, but when I got back from the school run it had all gone. And with it some of the noise - the daytime banging had turned into 24 hour banging – which has now diminished somewhat to an insistent grinding.
Taking over from the pub refurb is the road resurfacing. It’s a long story. (Still, I’ve got a blog for that.) The houses in our road don’t have foundations and what with the double-decker buses grinding their way up and down all the time, they were gradually being shaken apart. With the likely result a pile of some of the country’s more expensive rubble, the council acted. The re-surfacing was done at great length and expense and disruption, but it seems a crucial layer was left out or the materials were faulty and the cracks are starting to widen once more. So they’ve all come back for a second go.
Maybe it’s just the incessant tearing apart and putting together going on around me, but I have been feeling a bit dispirited recently. Of course for every Bunny World up there is a down. Days when you just can’t take the screeching children, the desperate inanity of it all. Days when life becomes a mobius strip of chicken goujons and Numberjacks and playgrounds and games involving crawling around on the floor. I felt in need of a boost so I searched the internet for succour. I logged hungrily onto stay at home dads’ websites and read about their experiences. It made me feel worse. I’m not a subscriber to the theory that reading about others’ misfortunes is any aid to happiness. In my experience it tends to have the reverse effect. Perhaps I just need a good talking to from Supernanny.