By Perry McDaid
“Looks like a bomb hit it,” PC George Durkan growled. The empty corridor remained stoically dilapidated. His heavy tread echoed tinnily as he patrolled the rooms, checking for squatters.
The owner had no intention of developing, refurbishing, or demolishing the premises in the short term, yet pestered George’s desk sergeant every Friday for a patrol to ensure no one was ‘vandalizing’ his property.
“Bloody well needs a good vandalizing to tidy it up,” George opined to the flaking walls and omnipresent mould.
Through the security fence he watched the envious dispossessed slap the chill from their upper arms. Another snowstorm threatened.
Kind of sad, that last line. Makes you want to cheer for the squatters!