
LAPD ~ Look and
Point Department
It’s been a month of men, machinery and shovels. Pouring concrete, digging trenches, laying pipes and shovelling stones. Talking of concrete, I don't know about you, but for me there is something wonderfully compelling about it, especially watching it pour. Just the sound, a sort of sucking woosh, has you spellbound. In fact it excites almost all of my senses, with the exception of taste; not tried it, not going to. I think it harks back to my childhood when we used to make mud pies, lumps of earth and water all stirred round with a lolly stick with a few daisy heads thrown in for decoration. I used to call it ‘Sloppy Molly’ and the pleasure of it has stayed with me to this day. Concrete deliveries draw audiences and I’m in the front row.
Most men are a bit bashful about having their photographs taken but introduce a piece of machinery or a shovel and you’ll get a pose.

[It can be an expensive game changing plans once they’ve been approved. We’ve changed them more than once. A sad and forlorn old farmhouse can be transformed into an impressive, idyllic country home on paper but be absolutely sure the pretty picture works for you. Check distances of swimming pools from the house or other buildings. How do you see the landscaping around the pool? If there are any special features you want make sure you have the space. Be aware that a garden shed, a wood store, even a pergola or anything else that has a roof may require planning permission. Check every space internally, especially kitchens and bathrooms, even plan furniture in the rooms. If the house is a rebuild you may be able to re-site windows and doors. Scrutinise your plans as though you are going to move into the house tomorrow. Thinking it all out is hard work and time consuming but it could save you money and/or disasters.]
The race is on to finish the ‘bunker’, demolish the old garage and commence work on our new home in its stead, develop the cowsheds, landscape the garden and build the swimming pool by next summer. I wish that we could be catapulted into next year leaving the toil of this one just a crumpled list of done jobs but that’s called wishful thinking and we haven’t got time for that.
I’ve been planting trees in the field beyond the bunker, poplars and fruit trees. Poplars to define the land boundary and fruit trees, well, for fruit. One day you plant a stick in the soil, cover its roots with earth, soak them with water and in just a few days, little taut buds erupt into frilly blossom. When did I begin to appreciate the wonders of nature? Well, the idea is, eventually, clients who rent the house will have their pick of apricots, apples, pears, plums and peaches, all home grown. Vegetables too, next year.
Just when you think it’s safe to go into the garden the snow comes, again; damn it. We’ve done the snow and put it to bed then when everything about the weather signals Spring, thick green carpets of grass, profusions of blossom feathering the fruit trees and temperatures of 24 degrees, winter reminds you it’s not done. So now we wait. Back inside, half-heartedly picking over the ‘Indoors To Do’.
We have our man lined up to demolish the old garage for us and to dig the foundations. I’ll be there with the vid. another front row event. And the rebuild, well we have prepared little packs of plans, structural drawings and specifications (translated into Italian) to pass on to prospective builders. We have four lined up (a German, an Italian, an Italian who has lived in Canada for 11 years so has a good command of English and the five brothers from Kosovo, but, as is usual anywhere in the world, the best are already committed to work for the next six months or so and we can’t afford to wait. Che sara’ sara’.
Next month ~ The chosen builder. Demolishing the old garage, digging the foundations and other snippets.