I know I’ve not posted for a while, I’m sure you’re all
bereft. But I’ve entered final year Masters hell and only have thoughts of
essays (yeaugh). However, some thoughts are better expressed than left to
simmer so as my silence doesn’t mean that all has been quiet in my neck of the
woods, I’ll update you. I’ve got new neighbours, who so far are behaving
themselves. Demolition seems to have ground to a halt, which is disappointing
and also having ripple like impacts on the occupied houses. (See update further down)
Fly tipping is increasing as is anti social behaviour. I’ll
give you a recent lovely example. About 6 weeks (maybe 8 weeks) ago I heard
fish wife like shrieking out in the street. As I may have previously mentioned
I’m not adverse to people enjoying themselves within reason just don’t be inconsiderate and disgusting. A
number of 'young ladies' were charging about the street, obviously under the
influence and enjoying each other’s company. Now why they couldn’t do this
inside is beyond me, but there you are I’m not pissed off my tits on cheap
alcohol in the middle of my street on a Friday night, what would I know?
I had a weekend of studying ahead and wanted to be in bed at
a reasonable time so I could get cracking on Saturday. As I went to bed I
looked out of my bedroom window to see one of them dropping her
leggings/tracksuit bottoms, whatever they were, in the middle of the street and
screaming. They could barely stand so they obviously couldn’t make it all the
way inside to alleviate their bladder discomfort. Pissing, or worse in the
street is apparently hilarious, judging by their harpy like cackling, so I went
down stairs opened my front door and said, “Alright ladies? Do you think it’s
about time to turn the volume down now?”
“Of course!” they replied and promptly pulled up their
knickers and popped back inside . . . . .
No they bloody well didn’t.
“Aaaargggeeehhhhhhhhwwwaarrrrggghhh it’s FFFFFFrrriiiiiiiiiiddaaaaayyyy........foookin
Friday . . . . arrgh” and repeat at
volume in your best pissed fat slag voice. So I asked again, nicely.
I’m not a confrontational person so I also explained that I’d
asked them nicely and what they decided to do next would inform whether I made
an official call or not. And off I popped back inside.
Things were quiet for 5 or 10 minutes, so I looked back out
of my window to see one of the Cheltenham Ladies College Graduates copping a
bare bottomed squat just by my gate and another thrusting her pasty arm through
my gate to knock over my rose bushes. So I called the police.
Little shits. They’ve been quiet since then.
As well as an insight into the intellectual pursuits of
teenagers on cider, curious things are afoot in my front yard. I’ve lived here
for years and never had anyone interfere with my foliage before, so I was very
upset when not long after the last community group meeting I woke up to find
some of my plant pots smashed and kicked over, beer bottles broken on the ground and plants
ripped up. Obviously this was the work of a drunken arsehole, so I swept it up
and put it down to experience.
Not long after that, there was a repeat performance. More
plants ripped up, pots moved and disturbed and pushed over. And again, shortly
after that incident I left my house one morning to find my doorway blocked by
all of my plant pots piled up against my front door. As I’m sure you can
imagine my sides were just splitting with good natured humour. Oh what amusing
scamps these little visitors were, I hope they don’t accidentally fall down my
cellar well and hurt themselves, or accidentally pick up one of the cat turds I
have to regularly remove from my greenery . . .sigh. I did report it to the police,
but realistically I don’t expect them to prioritise the phantom gardener of old
Beeston town, who has returned again, this time to create a pyramid of plant pots on my doorstep.
Anyway, I suspect the Mensa members from the street peeing
incident might have something to do with the less creative activity in my front
yard, given that I caught them red-handed and bare arsed interfering with my shrubbery.
And since I started this post just before New Year and am
finishing it half way through January I am happy to say that the demolition is off and running again. Right
opposite me in fact! I managed to film a bit, so if I can manage to embed a
video I will show you the last moments of a back to back terrace. I was very
impressed with the demolition guys, and now desperately want a digger. It was
quite brutal and a bit like watching Godzilla destroy a building; there’s
something quite anthropomorphic about diggers and how they move, I think it’s the
teeth on the bucket (or whatever it’s called). If someone could Photoshop some googly eyes on the digger I'd appreciate it.
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| Going . . . . |
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| . . . .going . . . . |
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| . . . going . . |
GONE!!!!!!!! Apologies for the weird reflections on the windows, I filmed these from inside as it was very dusty and cold outside
Anyway that’s it for now.
