This song came to my mind. I love it. What could be better than glorious mud.
Of course, the exodus of a group of builders surrounding my living quarters would be glorious. We might even form a corridor for them, clapping and singing as they go. They leave no mud, just glorius dirt and grime and windows that I seem to be cleaning like painting the Forth Bridge in Scotland. As soon as you are finished you can begin again.
However their days are counted. I had a strange experience today in my after lunch sleep. Just as my head touched the pillow the attack began with the concrete cutting machine somewhere along the path, but I defeated them, I slept. The only problem was that this machine incorporated itself into my sleep. Two minutes of grinding, a deathly silence, and then the sound of builder’s boots climbing the scaffolding outside the window carrying the sawn off tile. I slept for almost two hours, but this sound was ever present in my dream. Unfortunately I cannot remember what exactly happened in my dream, but the machine continued to cut and the builder was continuously marching up the stairs.
And now seated at my computer, looking for glorious things, I noticed this wonderful tile perched in front of the window. It is a sample of the new very expensive tiles that are being replaced on the balconies above. Even we common people on the ground floor were offered the opportunity to have them replace our old mould stained square tiles that you can see in this photo. Of course for an extra surcharge in price. I believe one neighbour decided to accept, but we found that when you become golden oldies, you can spend the money on better things, like a nice new walking stick.
We are now confronted with a problem. This tile is propped up in the garden, neglected and forgotten. I did hear the worker talking to is co-worker and asking what to do with the tile that was left, Whether to return it or put it somewhere. I did not hear the answer from the boss, but it has now probably been left in our garden. Perhaps they might forget it, who knows. Mr. Swiss and I are keeping an eye on the situation. If it is forgotten forever we will put it in our cellar together with the useful extra long screws that also belong to our glorious building trophies. These things might come in useful, in the famous words of my departed dad. He had a collection of stuff that might come in useful.