Historia Destructionis....

Sauveur is come, yea, even with his Onlie Begotten Son! Today was the day when the blacksmith came to remove the dreaded 'Belgian' Greek restaurant balustrade, or rather its stumps. They may not have looked like much, but these stumps were anchored with construction grade steel reinforcement bars into the cement flooring. How much of the floor, and the neighbours' ceiling, would they destroy as they were removed?

Sauveur came, with only begotten, not at the hour of fourteen o'clock, as covenanted, but at a time more consonant with a proper blacksmith's digestion. The toolbag was disquieting, a bit like going to a hospital appointment for wart removal and seeing a bloody Black and Decker and a metal cutting circular saw on the doctor's desk. Bloody big mason's hammers, serious cold chisels, safety goggles, an electric percussion drill. These guys meant serious business, possibly termination with serious prejudice, and this was directed at my poor little house, already decorated by yours truly.

I carried on painting in the room above, treading warily over the newspapers covering the most spectacular accident to date, namely the catastrophic spillage, first over me, and then over all the floor, of two and a half kilos of white emulsion paint. I was wearing overalls, but both overalls and normal clothes, plus shoes, were fit for the bin bag.

The thumps from the mason's hammers felt like earthquakes. Indeed, they confirmed a 'trouvaille' of the evening before: when moving a piece of furniture in the attic, I found a picture-frame, minus picture. The back of the frame was carefully inscribed - "Tremblement de terre, Antibes, le 25 février 2001, force 4,9, chute du cadre".

When the father and son had finished, I went downstairs, expecting Beirut or Gaza, Tsahal workmanship. What I actually found was a neat "absence" of said Greek restaurant balustrade, coupled with a subtle snow effect, the whole flat was dusted with pulverised plaster. Our new hoover was put to the test, as was our mop. Despite living in what looks like the equivalent of a mandible after student dentist tooth extraction (wisdom teeth, anyone?), the promise of a nice ironwork railing seems that much closer.