When I thought that we had the worst behind us, that the oppression from the building team was finished, a new disaster appears. We suffered with record decibel sounds from the pnematic chisels, my windows were getting a daily clean and my garden was covered in plastic. I lost one bed of flowers, there were a few remaining stalks fighting for survival and today we got this.
Relief, even Mafeking was relieved by the British in the Boer War in 1900. It took 7 months, but there was success. We have now been under siege since April and it was originally predicted that all would be finished in September, afterwards October and yes the latest is Novmber – just like Mafeking. But we are talking about a building troop and not soldiers.
Today it all returned and my garden was again covered in blocks of cladding material, rubble and dirt. Underneath it all was a protective layer of plastic, although armed with my walking cane I ventured into the garden and hovering above was one of the leaders of the builders who greeted me nicely, thinking I wanted to share the joys of the cladding of the walls. Using my walking cane I slid the pastic covering to one side. “It is not so bad” said the worker and I reminded him he was not a plant that needed sunlight and fresh air, as I continued to shift various blocks of cladding material to one side which were bred to crush anything in their way. The builder said no more – was he renedered speechless by a rebellious golden oldie that was defending the right of life for her plants.
I returned to my room and took a few photos of the threatening death and destruction.
I decided there was no point in crying about spilt plants and tried to fathom what this piece of stray plastic covered with teh grime and reminder of the building work was doing in front of my window. It was then a human appeared in front of my window, dressed in the uniform of a different builder. Instead of the whiteness of the average team, he was clad in blue. Today we are all cladding it seems. He asked politely if I could shut my window due to various pieces of falling debris that could, might, would arrive in my room. Did he not realise he was talking to a writer, to someone who was recording her life in daily episodes and waiting for the day when she would eventually be recognised for her talent. Of coure not, in short he was saying “shut the window”. He then departed further up the scaffolding and I could not resist a photo.
Since his appearance it rained blocks and bits and pieces of cladding material, but now all that remains is the occasional clank of a piece of metal and a few human voices in various languages using variou dialects: at 4.45 p.m., another hour, they will all go home to their families to report the events of the day. A distraught neighbour appeared to Mr. Swiss, complaining that the dirt and grime had returned again and we really thought that it was finished, and only the clinical working operations would be left until the end of the siege.
I just had a visit from another builder, this time clad in white, to warn me to keep all the windows closed on this side of the building as they are now beginning the big clean up of the scaffolding from top to bottom, everything arriving in front of my appartment on the ground floor of course. No problem, as everything will be left spotless afterwards. I dared to ask the builder about tomorrow and he answered cool and calm, that they will be back. “Until when – August?” I said jokingly. He was not joking when he confirmed my suspicion. He then went into further descriptions of grinding the complete surface of the building etc. etc. I decided not to listen further in case I got nightmares tonight being chased by a builder with a monster machine wanting to pulverise and form me into a block of cladding material.
Is this the scaffolding for the building rebels?
This is your reporter boroadcasting live from the events of the day in the Swiss outside office as she is being bombarded by exploding particles of styropor and stifled by buiding dust.