By Tim Kirton
I haven’t needed an alarm clock for almost six months now. My eagerly awaited, early retirement ‘lie-ins’ are rudely interrupted each morning by angle grinders, sledgehammers, high-powered drills, or sometimes just the soothing (sic) booming bass beats of what must be the world’s loudest speaker.
The thick layers of dust and debris have become a permanent feature on windows, doors, and pathways. The discarded food wrappers, drinks cans, and Rizla packets, beautiful additions to the once perfectly manicured south-facing garden.
So far, I’ve kept myself together. So far, I’ve kept schtum. So far, I’ve kept the 12-bore shotgun unloaded. So far.
A great short story that encapsulates the horrors of builders next door. I wonder how long the gun will stay unfired?
Thanks kj for your kind comment. P.s still unfired !
Immediately drawn in to this short story and can definitely resonate with.
Thanks for your comment Karen?
I know the feeling. Going through it right now.