I spend Saturday morning on the R's roof fitting stays to their new shiny stainless steel chimney (highly visible from the neighbours back garden) to stop it waggling about in the wind.
The neighbours garden is largely compacted mud with several children running around. One of the boys on a swing holds up a mobile phone, obviously with a camera facility, I wonder if he's forwarding it to his Mother?
Given the history of boundary dispute and the fact that, technically, Planning Consent is now a requirement for anything that sticks up more than a foot on your roof, I'm expecting some sort of verbal fusillade from next door.
Instead, some other boy stikes up with an un-selfconscious rendition of some Lionel Ritchie ballad ??
Hello! Is it me you're looking for?
Becuase I wonder where you are etc etc
Eee Gads! This can only be the far reaching and insidious influence of Simon Cowal and that dreaded X-Factor.
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