Ruby Grimshaw is happy to have the builders in

After the upheaval and trouble that doing up my bedroom caused me last year, I was dreading the arrival of the builders this month to do my room in the roof. I think I read that on the list of Life Happenings Causing Most Stress, having builders in ranks third after divorce and death of spouse. So I have been pleasantly surprised that the last few weeks have not caused me any disturbance at all. I do realise, however, that this is mainly because so far the work has been done to the outside of the house from scaffolding. Next week they come inside to ‘break through’ and put in the stairs, so by the time you are reading this it might be a different story.

I have been entertained and educated by the arrival of lorry loads of wood, windows and steel girders, all of which are swiftly towed up to my roof by means of a simple rope and tackle. When the boiling tar for pitching the roof was winched up precariously in a plastic bucket it made me think of history lessons when medieval soldiers poured boiling tar from the castle ramparts down onto their attackers. I had not realised how frightening that must have been.

“The seagulls think that they are going to have even more roof room”

The seagulls seem to think that they are going to have even more roof room and have been celebrating in large noisy gaggles every evening on my chimney. Also, more strangely, a family of wood pigeons have taken refuge under the top scaffolding and wake me up with their lovely cooing in the morning. I don’t mind them staying.

The skip outside seems to have a life of its own. I was worried it might be a magnet for litter droppers and, sure enough, two old doors appeared in it on the first day. However, before we could get too upset they had disappeared, only to be replaced by several bags of coal. My friend L, visiting from out in the sticks of Bolney – I used to live there so I am allowed to say that – exclaimed in delight because she has an open fire in her house and the relieved builders heaved the bags into the boot of her car.

Apparently in Glasgow they have a system where on Tuesday evening citizens put out onto the pavement any unwanted items of furniture or white goods. It seems that when the council come round on the Thursday there is little for them to collect. Perhaps we could try this system in Brighton?

Meanwhile my skip is doing its best.