WEEK 6 - Sorry, Rosie

It’s Monday and as with many Mondays for the last few weeks, it started with a bang.

They said it was going to be hard. They were right. But we didn’t realise this meant an attempt to decapitate Rosie, the goldfish, using a large steel prop which came crashing to the ground. At around 08:30am, the crew had managed to create a 20x20 cm hole in the wall between the new kitchen and hall. They proceeded to insert a steel girder, to prevent the wall from collapsing. Supporting this beam was a large steel prop. Yes, the word is “was”, because after a few moments, the prop crashed to the ground, hitting a glazed shelf and fishbowl, before making its mark on the mahogany floor. All we could hear was: “oh no!!!!”, or words to that effect…

It’s a long story, but nobody had been supporting the prop. Yes, it had happened before, but it would be unreasonable to expect anyone to use a couple of muscles to hold this in place while someone else was using a sledgehammer on the other side of the wall. Unreasonable? Yes, because nobody had asked them to do it!

In between clearing glass, mopping up water and giving Rosie, the goldfish, mouth to mouth resuscitation, the men decided to cart a few pieces of rubble through the hall, using a wheelbarrow. That’s fine, but there was no trace of their promised dustsheets and plywood sheets protecting the original floor. That’s when the sh**t hit the fan. We’re quickly learning the language of brickies and demolition squads: Don’t ask, just demand. That’s the only way things get done.

So after 30 minutes, the carnage was cleared. Great, we were only running a little bit late for our meeting. Revved the car and headed off for our one hour journey. But after five minutes, we hit a bit of a snag. Site agent called, somewhat sheepishly, to inform us the fire alarm had just gone off! The great thing about our fire alarm is that the emergency services will be called if they can’t reach us on the home telephone. Excellent… Without any way of cancelling a false alarm triggered by tornadoes of cement dust from the infamous petrol-driven circular saw, we would be welcomed home, yet again, by the fire brigade. At this stage I suggested - no demanded - the site agent welcome the fire crew at the gate. It was time for him to do the talking!

Called the alarm company who suggested an approved, high-tech, way of disabling the detector: black bin bag over the detector, held together with an elastic band. Let’s hope it works, as we’ll shortly be doing soldering for the water supply to the new kitchen.

At the time of writing, Rosie is settling into her new shiny fishbowl, courtesy of the construction company. While she sustained a small cut to the left hand side of her body, she doesn’t appear to have suffered any distress. As a colleague said, “they only have memories of a few seconds anyway!”

At £120 for the replacement bowl, she must be the most valuable goldish in town.

FOOTNOTE: After two weeks in the new bowl, Rosie died.