Oh yes – feast your eyes on our huge erection. I accept it currently has all the aesthetic beauty of a WWII pill box and is lacking some weatherproofing and – well – a roof, but fuck me, am I glad to finally get something started. We seen to have been planning for ever, and my impatience gland was close to an uncontrolled explosion when delay followed problem which inevitably threw up some other insurmountable issue.
And always the budget spreadsheet went one way and my wine consumption the other. So yesterday I was mightily cheered when our Farmer neighbour unexpectedly turned up with his digger*, and removed most of the hated pea shingle in an afternoon that history shall record as “shovel-fest”
I’ve no idea where it’s all gone – like all things here redistribution is the bedrock of the Herefordshire barter system, so some bloke will have a new drive while we receive half a ton of topsoil from a nutter mining for badgers.
Anyway back to the building. It’s going to be great although it seems too big on the outside, and too small once inside. This reverse Tardis phenomenon is probably nothing more than a three dimensional mental shift caused by the staggering amount of shit I know we’ve got to fit in there. It was designed for eight bikes** and now has to house those, a proliferation of models, assorted associated crap and – of course – the restitution of the tool wall.
And is this resurrection of the blessed shrine to percussive engineering timed with the Christian festival of Easter a coincidence? I think probably not. Much work to be done before then including solving the brow furrowing complexity of electrickery. Apparently if my power requirements ever meet the physical world, we’ll be needing to add a sub station to our ever lengthening list of projects.
* Which sat around doing nothing while important decisions were debated over a cup of tea of three. I became bored pretty quickly and cut to the only question that really mattered “Hey Ken, can I have a go on the dumper truck?”
** You haven’t missed anything. Obviously Carol and the Kids have a rather disappointing one each.