Decorate an Election

It has been a long day.  

Late yesterday I found an email from the landlord telling me the man was coming to fix the floorboards.

This was a surprise, I had not requested this.  It goes back to her survey of a few months back and she has decided to fix things (which were OK in my view anyway) and sort it.  She is female. 

So I was up early, having moved things last night, to move more things early this morning for the man who came early.  He did indeed fix the squeaky floorboards well, much to the downstairs neighbours delight, paint the ceiling, find a leak in the boiler I did not know about, paint some pipes, leave a mess, which I hoovered, then returned the house to normal.  He left about 2:30 and I was worn out!

Then a bullying email from the plumber regarding leaving my phone off, she had been trying to call me, she is also female, which I attended to.  Now I expect a boiler man in the morning to check to leak, which my man fixed, and find the cause or ensure the thing works properly.

Our man is very good.  He works hard, does the job well, he says, and moves on to one of the many other properties that require his attendance.  I meanwhile require hospital treatment for the muscles that now squeak more than the floorboards once did.  Not being used to work but glad to have done so much, including hoovering places not hoovered for many a day, and already planning other jobs that I must do while I can, those these must wait until the man tomorrow early again. 

Simpering lies from Sunak.  Covid, Ukraine war, anything but BREXIT and lying incompetent Prime Ministers, Boris, Truss, and himself.  Not only is he living in a false world he has created in his head but he rather foolishly thinks we believe it also.  A long goodbye from the man electioneering on the podium.  Just go back to your money, the money you have avoided tax on, and join the other gangsters in never-never land.

So, now to find out who is standing in this area.  We know the Tory vote will still come out, though many will remain indoors.  Who will be the Labour candidate?  If he has a name he might win well, if he is just another nobody the Home Secretary may keep his place and start a campaign for the leadership of the rump.  

I note the July 4th date.  That is the week Scottish schools go on holiday.  Did they realise this?  Was this done to reduce the SNP vote?  That will not succeed.

Speed and Coffee Talk

Not that long ago a workmen's van arrived, stopped across the road, unloaded gear, set up a security fence, climbed the ladder, placed this sign on the lamppost, collected the gear, and drove off.  Thirty minutes work.

Nobody has taken a blind bit of notice!

As I trudged down to the Post Office to finally post my card to the new born, the rain began, the cars splashed, and none looked up to find a big '20' sign in front of them.  I suspect this is because there is no sign at the beginning of the road, nor one following on from where the supermarket shoppers join the road.  Ignorance is bliss for many, deliberately from some.

Whether such a speed on this main road helps is debatable but few are debating at the moment.  I can understand this on the side streets where people often wander on the road, but this is a main carriageway and heavy traffic can be found on many days, including 'rush hour' traffic that never reaches 20 mph on any day.  

Having posted my cards 'Special Delivery' (£6:85) to ensure they get there this week, I wandered around to the church coffee morning to get out of the increasing rain.  The occasion is an excuse for old women from the locale to join old women from the church, and one or two men, for a mornings gossip.  It is one of the things that keeps such women alive.  Many are lonely, one or two not quite right, and all like to gossip.  During the day they get bored, at night they watch dumb TV, and the next day they find another church with tea on the go to fill a moment.  My mother used them when she aged, and enjoyed them all.  Here, my beard growth was encouraged by one women in the hope I would play Santa next year!  My reply was curt.  

After being offered a lift home I returned to eat and sleep.  Which sums up my life at the moment.

The abode requires urgent cleaning, and much has to be done.  However, there is no urgent cleaner on show at the moment, and none of the women, bored as they are, would offer.  So it may be left until next week...

It's all Joy Here...

Over the weekend I picked up one of those stomach bugs making it impossible to eat.  Add to this muscle stiffness in my back, and elsewhere, made it impossible to sleep.  I could not lie down and so for two night have sat up in the couch occasionally dozing.  This morning I managed to eat a tasteless bite and sleep for a short while before the workmen arrived.
All was set, they were late, soon to be standing around asking "Where does that go?" "What is it?"
"I can't see..." and "Now what...?"  I slumped in the chair, more alive than I have been for a couple of days, but not really caring.
The banging commenced, things were removed, questions asked and now they wonder how to deal with all the pipes, especially the one from the boiler that the plumber put in. 
These three days might become three weeks...

I retired to the West Wing where I found a US MLS game.  This appeared to begin at 9am in Florida heat!  How different from those days of standing in the hail at Love Street, Paisley, where we lost 3-0, or a dark Dundee night at Tannidice where we lost there also.  Actually the game was not great and after my night I slept through most of it.  Naturally this allowed the men to get on with the work without any help from myself.  This did not hinder them.
While I mused as to tomorrows endeavours I glanced at the news I had missed.  Still we must wear masks, unless we are Michael Gove, still English death totals are regarded as 'UK' totals, and still MPs on committee meetings by internet have to tell the cat to "Get your tail out the way."  This never happened when Disraeli was around!
Murders, celebs, cannabis farms, the usual empty news fills the pages.  I always glance at the front page of all papers, the screaming large headlines never offer news, it sometimes makes me wonder if we have a 'free press' when no 'news' is offered bar 'Bread and Circus!'   Oh yes, Boris has dumped 'Huawei' from the 5g network, well by 2027 that is.  The Chinese are annoyed.  They of course knew this was going to happen, the were listening in on all the discussions.

Take a Leak...

My blissful existence, which consists of staring out the window, reading things and stuffing bad food down my throat, was hindered this morning by the approach of the workmen.  The small leak under the sink required fixing, the plumber stated the sink required replacing, this requires renovating the entire kitchenette.  
I awaited their arrival with baited breath.
They came, they saw, they debated, they pointed, they measured, they cogitated, they refused, they changed their minds, they pointed once again, they remeasured, they cogitated but mostly stood staring blankly muttering "Well...maybe" and "Hmmm..."  "We could ..."  and "But what about that..." and so on.  
Eventually they decided, it all had to come out.  All required renovation.  
They stared at me.
"Everything has to be moved," they stated happily, grinning too cheerfully for my liking.  
"Where to?" enquired I.
Giggles all round from them.
"There may be dust," said one.
"With you there is always dust said I," bringing nods and agreement from both.  
Quite how the hoover has lasted so long no-one knows.    
Eventually we agreed.  Next Tuesday they will arrive, remove the entire kitchenette and replace it.  There is no other option.  The leak is one thing but underneath all is becoming rotten and requires work either now or later.  I suppose this was built in the 1970's, possibly 45 - 50 years ago so it will be getting old and as bits underneath were breaking off as they fiddled about it is probably the time for action.
The actual leak has been temporarily sealed, downstairs need worry no more, bar the noise and dust of course, but now I have to move everything into space that does not exist and continue to live.  Next week I will need to live in a workshop!
I look forward to this...!

   
During the discussion we discussed St Stephens in London where the Landlord found me all those years ago.  There I was, up there at the top, the window open as it is easier to open it than clean it, and quite happy bar the number of disturbed and disturbing tenants that were beginning to arrive.  So I moved to this wee market town full of boredom where I fitted in perfectly.  
However I did learn something I had not known before.  I was under the impression the first landlord in London had bought the house, indeed all his houses, during the war.  It appears this was wrong, he obtained these run down premises, and continued to let them be run down as much as possible,  until the council made him do them up.  He sold them!  
In fact he had obtained the building in the early 60s when Peter Rachman, a notorious landlord, had died and the buildings sold on.  Rachman had specialised in bedsit tenancies.  Usually the West Indians that came in during the 50s were his clients as he knew there were less protections for them.  He, or at least those who collected the high rents, were known to use despicable tactics on the clients.  Setting dogs on those who could not pay, acid thrown, or removing the staircase so they could not get it, or out!  In the end this led to many changes in law, though it did not help that race riots in that part of London were common at the time.  He moved himself into Winnington Road, Hampstead, and moved around in a chauffeur driven Rolls-Royce.  He was done on occasions by the police, who were desperately seeking to catch him and his men, for prostitution that was taking place in his flats.  I sometimes wonder who has been sleeping in my bed there in times past!  
I had been told he was a Jew who ended up in Auschwitz but in fact he was a Polish Jew caught by the Germans who escaped in Soviet held territory.  This did him no good as he was sent to Siberia with 3 million other Polish men, women and children, and eventually they escaped when Hitler invaded Russia and these men formed the 2nd Polish Corps.  He served in the Middle East and ended his war in Italy.  From there they were moved to the UK where Rachman like so many others remained.    
Rachman died after marrying his long time girlfriend but he had many other woman at the time including Christine Keeler and Mandy Rice-Davis, famous for other famous people they knew.  He kept them in local flats, for the use off, and his money was a major attraction for them.  However his style of record keeping, not letting the left hand know what the right hand is doing, meant that at his sudden death, he took a heart attack while driving, there was insufficient paperwork to prove ownership of properties.  His friends grabbed what they could.
I need to state at this point my landlord is not like this man.  This landlord does not offer a small payment to move, insert loud, all day and night party loving types all around, or indeed do deals with the Kray twins to keep them out of his hair.  
Dealing with plumbers can of course be worse than this...

Workmen

Yesterday morn I was greeted by sunshine reaching through the kitchen window, starlings squabbling over the feeders and above streaks of blue mixing with white clouds.

Today I find gray clouds cover the earth, the streets damp with rain and at eight in the morning contractors using power drills and small JCBs to dig up the neighbours paved front garden! 

How am I supposed to hear Radio 3 with that cacophony in the background?

I sit here in the drawing room filled with the emanations from the rubbish bin that has required emptying for a while as four (Polish?) workmen do their best to make as much noise as they can while attempting to ensure the job lasts long enough to claim overtime.  I notice the woman next door has not yet appeared, either she did not expect them and is hiding in the back of the house or she is back in bed with her head under a pillow trying to avoid the noise.  

It is a small front of a bungalow and this was concreted over a while back to allow cars to park, possibly she wishes to amend this either to improve the house and raise the selling price or turn this back into a garden.  Either way it ought to be done when I am elsewhere I say.

Lunchtime has passed, the work next door has not completed yet.  If you take a large tin, fill it with stones and rattle it back and forward for thirty minutes, stop for five then begin again over and over then you will begin to understand what I have endured cheerily this morning. 

In spite of this I have continued to work (HA!) and even exercised as I must in a vain attempt to put life back into this fat bloated hulk of mine.  I was encouraged in this by the nurse, an adorable ex-Stasi Commandant, who offered me a choice of one hours exercise a day or twenty four hours of death a day, tact not being an attitude taught back in Berlin.

I therefore exercised for a while, straining and stretching and aching all over.  All this while the rattling stones outside bounced in their tin.  The small JCB has piled some of the concrete into a pile to be dumped in someones back lane when no-one is about while as yet the woman of the house has not shown her face.  It did strike me that these men possibly have arrived at the wrong house while she is on holiday.  This will give her something to boast about later will it not if that is the case?

It will soon be over, sooner if I find a shotgun!

Funnily enough in spite of the cacophony to my right I found myself accidentally falling asleep after a very healthy lunch (there were no pizzas left), strange how that happened but there you are.  Then as the noise continued I found work hard to cope with and, again accidentally, came across some Euro Champs League football on BTS which I had to watch.  Endure might be a better word as games at this period of the competition are often poor and mean little, especially with teams who's name you cannot pronounce and have not the foggiest where they come from.  

This passed the time until this big green lorry appeared and I knew the noise was about to abate.  He had arrived to remove the rubbish thrown up by the workers and as he left, narrowly avoiding the woman attempting to overtake him, the sound died away.  Now I feel like I have gone deaf as there is no sound, not even from the passing traffic which usually fills the air with rubbish and loud music while they queue up in the rush hour.  The mess left behind is a wonder to behold, mud stains the pavements, loose stones and earth lie all around.  I look forward to tomorrows toil, though in the meantime I had  look to see if they had brought down any of our walls, not yet they haven't.

The Worker

Yesterday I left about 9:30 and noticed this van parked here.  I returned around two in the afternoon and the driver was still sitting here dozing in the cab.  Nothing had changed, no amendments to the road, no other vehicles, nothing.

Then just as the 'rush hour' was ending, the word 'rush' is not be taking literally here, the man got out of the cab and started laying out the temporary lights as seen.  Had he been there all day waiting until six thirty you ask?  It appears so I answer.  

Today I noticed he was still parked there and appeared to have been there all night.  About ten thirty, just after I photographed him he left, scared of MI5 I suspect but he returned later and now sits there bored as can be waiting and waiting while the lights control the traffic.

I wonder why?

Only one part of the road that I can see has been tarmacked over and that is about ten feet by four.  Has he been there all this time for this?  Say nay!  Interestingly I have heard no noise of machinery replacing bad bits of road.  No noise as potholes are filled, no noise whatever.  

I am left wondering who pays for this?  The County Council that's who, and I suspect they know this is going on.  Is this operator a private functionary?  I suspect so, this explains his willingness to sit here for hours doing nothing and not even make use of a mobile phone.  

Maybe I have missed something here, maybe this is a police operation spying on some bad bloke or other.  Wait a minute, who is that looking through my window....?