externally yours……….

The front of my house is actually the back. From the streetside at ‘Paris point’ it appears to be below ground level over much of its frontage… you enter through a lattice gate walk about 12 meters along the verandah, hang left onto the front verandah and suddenly you are way up in the air, about 8 meters above ground level which is pitching downwards at about a 40 degree angle. From the verandah you can see layer after layer of hills into the distance to the escarpment. Of an evening as the sun goes down it is very theatrical: a series of scrims of successive levels of pale pink shadow…. and of the morning, now as we head into winter there are layers of fog and mist hanging in the valleys and over the river. At moments it can be reminiscent of the jungle near the Iguassu falls, if there was in fact falling water, hummingbirds, toucans and I had taken enough chems.
I could/should go just take a pic and save my fingers…. hands-up those who want to see a picture of my view or house?

Somewhere on the edge of this vision yesterday appeared a truck with a traxcavator which started knocking down the trees on the edge of the forest or jungle if we have all taken our medication (see above if you are too out of it)….. a new neighbor is about to build. This brings out in me multicotomy of feelings. I am looking forward to having new neighbors…. fer godsake I have already worn out the old ones, they pretend to be weeding the roadway when I whoosh past in the car, though I have to say, as people age the avoirdupois tends to hit the arse area, so bending they tend to look like all day suckers….. ‘does my arse look big in this street?’…… ‘you aint whistling dixie with that thing’ . There have been times when I have thought …’I don’t remember a drive-in screen in the street’. So you got the picture? It is the sort of street where time stands still. If anyone says jokingly ‘when was the last time you saw a beehive hairdo?’ I could honestly say ‘when I was out jogging this morning’ …. it is sort of like a modern day Hobart without the batik and cheezecloth.

Anyway I don’t know why I piss them off…hey I am lovable, but I am prepared to admit it can’t be easy living near a pair of poofters, with all the impeccable taste and brutal honesty that entails.

So back to yesterday… It isn’t the thought of a new house appearing in my view that makes me apprehensive, it is the building process. It has just quietened down since the ‘lederhosen brigade’ across the street have finished their house and moved in (apparently he plays brass… I misheard and thought it was bras. How noisy can that be I thought once he gets the object off his wife)…..and now I realize we are up for 5-6 months of construction down by our lilly pond.

Having a house built near to you is like riding a bike, you never forget… the 7am starts which sneak back to 6am so the ‘chippies’ can fuck off to surf as soon as there is the sign of a decent off-shore break. I use the word ‘fuck’ because soon that will be every second word we hear float up towards the house…. that is if we can hear it over the other delights of builder/labourers: they all arrive in different hotted up utilities throw open the drivers door, crank the volume up on the ‘car radio’ to max volume and go to work. That there could be say 6 utes each with its radio tuned to a different ’station’ I don’t get… but democracy of selection of radio programmes reigns inviolate.

Oh dogs…… did I mention dogs. Every red blooded builder has to have a dog on the back of his ute; usually of some ugly rottie/boxer/pit bull/mastiff breed, well any of the breeds that drools a bucket of saliva. When the owner arrives the dogs are set free, and they are encouraged to spend the day running rampage through the neighborhood, crapping, digging up gardens, mating with the local mutts, or sometimes the neighbors themselves bending over to weed the street and no real guy would have a dog that can’t keep up a good bark for several hours.
It comes back to me that what I have to look forward too is 6 months of dog rampage, commercial radio (shudder), dog crap (which will add to the Parisian ambience) and fast food boxes blowing through my garden…….. BUT HEY! it aint all downside when the weather warms these same men will not be able to overcome the urge to strip to the minimalist amount of clothing… then I will probably have need to weed the lilly pond.

……………………….With any luck we will be upwind of the port-a-loo.

PS the AO only blog is up…. god I didn’t know how hard being an exhibitionist is.

~ by attributi on May 18, 2008.