Wotashit

Martin rang my mobile at 8.15 this morning. I didn’t recognise the number and was busy so ignored the ringing. He left a message saying that after discussing it with Anne they didn’t want us to scaffold over or on their property. My heart sank and my temper rose quite considerably. At 9.15 Max and Jamie, the scaffolder, visited and looked at our house and Martin's. He explained how the scaffolding would sit in front of Martin’s garage and on his patio and not touch anything in between. As they arrived Marianna saw Anne come out of their back door and squat down on the other side of the fence supposedly weeding. My life has become a BBC sitcom. Not a proper, funny one but the sort that’ll be on at 7.30 on a Wednesday. I didn’t mention Martin’s phone message to Max and Jamie. My ‘Bay of Pigs’ strategy is that we’ll give him the letters and sketches and see if he’ll honour his handshake. What we do if he doesn’t I don’t know. Call on the party wall specialist? Go back to the absolute beginning of all of this and have a single storey extension? Live in it as it is? Now even Marianna, team leader and cheer leader of the project, has said that if we could get the same price we paid for the house she’d walk away.

It’s just a casual enquiry but I’m looking for people. The word ‘army’ or ‘revolutionary force’ or ‘hit squad’ may be going too far but if you know anyone or, you yourself, own a weapon, are able to break bones or have experience of kidnapping people and seeing this through to the delivery of a ransom or signature on a form then get in touch.