The Build: Day 1
I knew, I just knew, things would not go smoothly when I got the builder in to work on the extension to my kitchen and put in the new downstairs cloakroom. I didn’t quite realise how mad the situation could get. Nor how quickly. I could have written a long essay, but I thought a poem might express my feelings better over this first day ‘on the job.’
The Builder arrived just after eight.
Normally, I’d still be in bed. I’m retired, see?
I no longer have to get up at 6 a.m. and join the rush
To work, but today was different.
‘On your own, then?’ I asked
‘I’ve fallen out with my labourer – I’ve
Got to get a new one.’ It seems the man
Couldn’t get up on a Monday morning.
So, my builder is coping with two jobs.
The one he expected his employee to start today;
And mine. At mine, he’s found two issues already.
The drains, and the skip.
The drain is shared, with both
Next-door neighbours. Which might make complications
For the building inspector to rule on.
And the skip? Was plonked in the wrong place.
A long hour has been spent
Dragging the skip across my front lawn.
With a tube underneath, and planks,
And a strap tied from the skip,
To the back of his van.
Now, when digging is done
From the front of my house
The soil can be thrown
Straight into the skip.
Except the first things to go into
The skip, are two large mirror-doors
From a neighbour’s home.
A neighbour who never asked me,
And then disappeared.
He has form, I’m told; but the mirrors
Can be used to prop up the sides
Of the skip – to get more in.
I’m getting used to a radio playing
(I think). And I am trying hard to leave
The builder to get on with his job.
But then – then I have to ring the architect
Something to do with the porch
That had now lost its tiles.
Could we raise the roof? Could we not?
What had we asked for? Did Planning
and Building Regs agree?
And what was the way round it?
Shortly after, there was silence.
My builder was waiting for the hired
Digger to arrive – not due till 2:30, or
Later. So, when, before one, there was a
Knock on the door
I did not expect a man with a digger.
Now, I was ringing the builder – who’d gone for
his lunch (which he enjoyed):
‘Give me two minutes.’
To be fair, he was back in five.
Digger unloaded and, within an hour –
I was without a loo. And couldn’t let any water
Go down the drain.
The digger had gone through
the waste pipe. In order to effect
a repair, he was going to ‘put a T on it,’
ready for the new downstairs loo
This all took time. And, of course,
When you’re told you can’t
You really want to ...
My post-lunch coffee just drunk
And coffee’s a diuretic. How much pressure
Could a man’s bladder stand?
It is amazing how easy to make an error.
And how hard to put it right:
Even with the know-how, and
Even with all the kit,
It took him ninety minutes:
Which doesn’t sound long
Unless you’re the one
Hanging on. The one who
Had been thinking of using the loo
All those minutes ago.
Had he started last week, there
Would have been endless sunshine.
But now, it’s 15:42, and starting to rain.
So, time to shut up shop – until tomorrow.