It was windy last night. Very windy. I was woken up at 4 by the roof creaking and groaning. We have a big roof with a wooden plank ceiling nailed to the underneath of it. In high winds it moves and creaks and groans and sounds like the effects soundtrack of a fifties Pirate movie. Last night about 5am there was a gust that hit the roof like a solid wall of something a lot more solid than mere air. The house shook. I don't suppose the stupidly thick granite walls shook but the roof and upstairs floor shhok. Most of my sphincters tightened. Your bed isn't supposed to move if you are just lying there being terrified. I've only ever experienced a couple of minor earthquakes when I stayed in LA but that's what it felt like. One or two on the Richter scale.
Holly woke up scared and climbed into bed with us.
This morning we woke up to find a couple of trees down in my mum and dad's garden, chunks missing off our barge boards and our shared satellite dish pointing at Norway instead of somewhere above the equator.
Getting my priorities right I ignored everything else and phoned the nearest TV satellite dish repair person. I could get to the dish all right, it's not that high up, but I would have no idea where to point it when I got there. The sky is an awfully big thing.
I'm not expecting the bloke to turn up any time soon, or even call me back until the evening but he turns up at 4ish in the afternoon and takes a look. I point out we have ladders to hand so he doesn't even need to get his off the top of his van. He gets his tools. Shins up the ladder, fiddles for about 5 minutes comes back down, signal restored, and says he'll send his bill. I ask him how much it will be.
Sixty-five fucking quid for five minutes work PLUS VAT!
When I'm up there in a few days fixing the bargeboards I am going to do some serious measuring and marking of angles on that thing. I'll fix some fucking guy ropes to it too. Sixty-five quid. Needless to say that is the last time we will be using him and I am so tempted to send him a bill for the hire of my ladders.
Later:
Fuck. I need to go to bed. I am loosing it. I'm sitting here at the computer writing jokes for my new never to be finished screenplay when I think, 'I know I'll listen to some music'. Not wanting to disturb Merriol who is asleep in the room next door I find the headphones in the tangle of cables down the side of the desk. I pick them up, realise they aren't plugged in and trace the cable till I find the plug...
...and shove it in my ear.
I'm sitting there with the headphone in my hand and a jack-plug stuck in the side of my head.
You might want to do the same after enjoying this: The Laurence Whelk Orchestra plays The Velvet Underground.
Holly woke up scared and climbed into bed with us.
This morning we woke up to find a couple of trees down in my mum and dad's garden, chunks missing off our barge boards and our shared satellite dish pointing at Norway instead of somewhere above the equator.
Getting my priorities right I ignored everything else and phoned the nearest TV satellite dish repair person. I could get to the dish all right, it's not that high up, but I would have no idea where to point it when I got there. The sky is an awfully big thing.
I'm not expecting the bloke to turn up any time soon, or even call me back until the evening but he turns up at 4ish in the afternoon and takes a look. I point out we have ladders to hand so he doesn't even need to get his off the top of his van. He gets his tools. Shins up the ladder, fiddles for about 5 minutes comes back down, signal restored, and says he'll send his bill. I ask him how much it will be.
£65!
Sixty-five fucking quid for five minutes work PLUS VAT!
When I'm up there in a few days fixing the bargeboards I am going to do some serious measuring and marking of angles on that thing. I'll fix some fucking guy ropes to it too. Sixty-five quid. Needless to say that is the last time we will be using him and I am so tempted to send him a bill for the hire of my ladders.
Later:
Fuck. I need to go to bed. I am loosing it. I'm sitting here at the computer writing jokes for my new never to be finished screenplay when I think, 'I know I'll listen to some music'. Not wanting to disturb Merriol who is asleep in the room next door I find the headphones in the tangle of cables down the side of the desk. I pick them up, realise they aren't plugged in and trace the cable till I find the plug...
...and shove it in my ear.
I'm sitting there with the headphone in my hand and a jack-plug stuck in the side of my head.
You might want to do the same after enjoying this: The Laurence Whelk Orchestra plays The Velvet Underground.
No comments:
Post a Comment