Purveyor of Bollocks to the Crowned Heads of Europe
Tuesday, 26 June 2012
Last summer with scaffolding front and back - all summer... this 'summer' with building sites front and back - all year... the diesel generator is quiet, but it fills our compact but adorable city apartment with noxious fumes on the front and, on the back, well, the night-scented stock has not yet come into stunted bloom, and the gull's chicks (not that I am particularly fond of the brutes) seem to have disappeared overnight. I suspect fowl play.
I have had a pleasant communication from the developer closest to us, and I really believe that - under the circumstances - he is the best of the bunch.
The poor sod who I am shouting at in the above video is only trying to earn a hard living - 6 'till 6, for fuck's sake - so I feel a bit guilty about recording the little video in which he stars, but war is war, and we are under siege.
I wouldn't mind if they were doing something worthwhile, rather than tarting up our city fathers' front door-step. The trouble is that this is actually OUR front doorstep, and the city fathers live quite a distance away from here.
Tonight I am rather depressed - I hate confrontation, no matter how justified, so I suspect I will end up with a bruised nose. I'm off to bed now at 1.30 a.m.