Hippie digger


We have a new view here at Waffle Towers. Once, our living room window looked out over a wide expanse of lawn and a variety of trees and bushes, which were a haven for birds, insects, and most of the local cat population. Now, the only plant in sight is what is known in the trade as heavy plant: dumper trucks, a road roller, and a growing selection of 360 degree hydraulic excavators. Much better (not). They are, apparently, planning to build some dinky little houses opposite.

Our favourite big digger (if it is possible to have such a thing) is operated by a little tubby bald man to whom we have given the affectionate (lol) nickname of ‘The Weasel’.

‘I’m going to go over there after dark,’ I joked, ‘and tie his digger to the fence. I know knots, And I have lots of strong parcel string.’ I added, menacingly. I didn’t mention a somewhat darker thought I had had, concerning ducktape πŸ™‚

‘Don’t be tempted to use your shoelaces though,’ said Shana. ‘You’ll only regret it in the long run.’

‘Good thinking,’ I said, jotting down this helpful suggestion. ‘Another thing I might do is I might go over when The Weasel is away and cover his digger with ‘Peace’ signs and flowers, so it looks like a hippie bus. He’d feel a right wally then, wouldn’t he?’

Shana was enjoying my ramblings, and so was I.

‘Here’s the best one though,’ I said, ‘although I might have to call on someone with in-depth knowledge of vehicle electrics. It would be a hoot though, to wire up the little road roller…’

‘What, you mean the one that sounds like a giant tumble drier and makes all our windows rattle?’ said Shana.

‘Yeah, that’s the one,’ I said. ‘Well, if someone were to rewire it so that every time they started it up, it sounded ice cream van chimes, that would be just hilarious. ‘Teddy Bear’s Picnic’ would be my choice. ‘

‘Oh yes,’ said Shana, ‘how does it go?’

If you go down in the woods today, your’re sure of a big surprise…’ I said.

Then we both looked out at our new view. No woods there. Not even a single scrappy bush. Just one lone sycamore, the beginnings of an access road, and what looked like one big JCB car park. And not a weasel in sight.

‘Be a big surprise if they get anything built today, ‘ I said. ‘They’ve all gone home and it’s not even four o’clock. Pah! What a bunch of part-timers πŸ™‚


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