And the renovation work procedes. We are now in the hands of the plasterers, the men that are ripping the old cover away to the building, to replace it with a much better new one. The men in white have now arrived, doing their job, leaving behind a trail of destruction and unwanted pieces of our old facade. Of course I took a walk around our estate for some new photos for the camera.

These men in white are the ruthless ones, showing no mercy to anything. They reminded me of ants clinging to various parts of the building and eating everything in their path. As I was observing the work, there was a thud and the worker at the top of the building had yet removed another piece of material landing in front of me. Of coure it is easier to throw it as carry it down. The other men swarmed over it and it was quickly removed, back to the ants.

This is what a buiding looks like, when stripped down to the bare necessities. This is the real skeleton of your living quarters, the rest is just an extra, but it is the rest that costs money and our rest was said to be ill, disintegrating and should be replaced. This was the point where opinions were divided. Not really divided as the most were in favour of this expensive luxury make over we now have. According to some, those that probably will be spending their summer that never was somewhere else, it was a necessary step, our facade was ill, and would eventually die. Others just nodded and said yes, although they rent their property and do not live here themselves. That left a remainder (including us) that found the whole fuss was not necessary and also very expensive.

However the majoritiy always get the vote, even if they do not know what they are really doing. We on the ground floor, are getting the whole mess from this renovation as according to the laws, everything is drawn to the earth’s surface, and that is where we are living. Yesterday our blinds were being removed. We were the first on the east side of the building, but will be the last on the west side as the blind removal troop must co-ordinated their movements with the plasterers. Ants have a wonderful sense of co-ordination.

Yesterday the King Ant  dared to show his face when the plasterers arrive. Up to now I have only seen his photo on the notice stuck to the entrance with his telephone number for any questions. Questions, I have so many I decided to avoid asking. Not once did this ant bother to call personally and inform of what will be happening, but we are just the extras, not so important. He made the mistake yesterday of calling on a neighbour for a key and he was left speechless after hearing her tirade of complaints and thoughts.

This is now the view from the room where I write my prize suspicious blogs: a platform leading to the staircase of the scaffolding.

This notice is fixed to the entrance of the steps to the scaffolding, fixed on a special door with a programmed lock. It is in German, but more or less says that entrance is forbidden to private persons, and only the builders are allowed to mount the scaffolding. Yesterday I was sitting at my desk writing and suddenly heard the noise of running feet on the scaffolding and the voices of children. My window was open and I said, in my usual loud voice, “what do you think you are doing?”. Two boys suddenly appeared from nowhere and descended from the scaffolding and disappeared. They did not climb the stair entrance, as it was locked but managed to climb the scaffolding to this platform. Their supervisor was otherwise busy, and they were left to their own devices. I even get worried when my cat decides to explore this new state of my private nation.

But life goes on, accompanied by the background noise of drills and other tools. I have places to go today, the supermarket, and things to organise – dinner.  Mr. Swiss found that I am doing a great job with my photographic documentation of the work progress. Who knows, perhaps I do stand a chance for my Pulitzer, when my book of buiding photos is published. I wonder if I have a chance of a photo exhibition in the local art gallery?

See you around on the flip side with more news from the depths of rural Switzerland where the cows say goodnight to the buiding machines.