||[Jan. 13th, 2007|10:26 am]
The people two doors down are having their house remodelled. Yesterday was all bump, bump, bump- a muffled hammering like the chugging of an oil well, punctuated by clatter-bangs as the debris got thrown in the skip. It gave Ailz a headache. By evening, standing out in the street, we could look up through their front bedroom window and see the underside of the roof. The bedroom ceiling/attic floor had been completely removed. The place where the bedroom once stopped formed a tidemark on the newly revealed gabled end; below it, paper; above it , bare, rough brick. The house had been holed out, cored, autopsied. The big, new space was grand and scary and made me think of abbeys.|
Today the rebuilding begins. Banging, clanking, whooping and baritone chanting as the breezeblocks, floorboards and plasterboard panels are delivered.
Having spent the better part of a year remodelling our house and still having bits and pieces left to do, I thoroughly empathize with your neighbours and sympathize with you. The noise levels can be maddening and the mess even moreso. We´re still not done cleaning up and painting. The spaces that open up when you knock out walls is amazing and scary all in one. The real trick consists of finding living space in the half razed house to stay away from the construction dust and grime. Mostly it´s impossible to do. We still have nightmares.
I don't know how they're coping. It's a family with small children. I guess they've probably gone to stay with relations.
One of the old houses in this town suddenly had no roof! They took it off and left the house, for one clear night at least, open to the sky!
Then workmen came and made a new upstairs with two gabled windows and a new roof.
(I love your writing--"...made me think of abbeys.")
Something very similar is happening across the road. They've taken off the top storey of a coach house and now they're putting it back
I'm always fascinated by demolition and building work.
A former coworker of mine had a three-year-old on a trip, and when it was time to leave he was transfixed by a bulldozer working in a field by the motel. She had to tug on his arm while he screamed, "No!!! Construction!"
That's a great story.
I'm reminded of J.K.Jerome's wisecrack: "I love work. I could watch it for hours."