When Normality goes Mad

The working title for this blog was 'A Boring Week'.  Every so often you get a week when there is no actual highlight, nothing dramatically out of the ordinary, certainly nothing worth shouting about, and yet, at the end of it, the 'crunch' figure (i.e. estimate of total income for the week) is quite reasonable.  So, before finding something more worthwhile to write about, on with the 'nerd' specs, and let's wheel out the stats.  Although there were seventeen jobs this week, almost half of the miles were taken up by the five jobs that were more than 60 miles distant, and the average of all the rest was only 36 miles.  Two of the best jobs of the week were in the evening - on Wednesday to Daventry, and on Thursday to Birmingham.

My normal weekend routine includes washing (i.e. loading and eventually emptying the washing machine) and ironing.  These are usually performed on Saturday or Sunday; this week, however, ironing took place on Friday and was in fact postponed from Thursday.  Why do I bore you with this domestic detail?  Simply in order to amuse you with the explanation.  On Wednesday morning I had a pre-8.0 delivery in Northampton, and crowned this adventure in the time-honoured fashion with the purchase of a bacon-and-egg roll at a convenient mobile hostelry (often called a burger-van).  Sadly the invitation to have one's egg hard rather than soft was omitted.  This omission not being recognised and resolved, the tragic, but inevitable, outcome was much eggy-dribble on jersey-front.  To be brutally frank, there was egg everywhere, and the eating of breakfast was something of a nightmare rather than the anticipated delight that it usually is.  Emergency laundry was the only option, with the ensuing disruption to my domestic routine.

There is something else about which I had been intending to write for some while.  It concerns a regular route out of town to the south-east, the A507. More accurately, it concerns a single - and solitary - property along this road.

The story has been unfolding gradually for some while, but has now reached a crisis.  This particular property stands back slightly from the road, in a broad clearing.  To the rear is woodland, to the front a decent expanse of lawn, and alongside is the roadway that leads to a farm just over the hill.  From the style I should say it was built in the 1960s or '70s; I'd guess that its accommodation probably includes three or four bedrooms, and there's a built-in garage.  The first time I saw it I thought that this house looked smart.  There was never a 'For Sale' notice outside, and I'd often reflected that I'm not in a position to take any steps towards identifying the owner, let alone to contemplate buying it.  If it comes to that, given its isolated position I'm not sure I'd want to live there.  But that doesn't stop it looking, on a sunny morning, in a rather modernist way, a very attractive dwelling.

As I say, the story has unfolded gradually, but I don't think you'll be surprised to learn that, being unoccupied and isolated, this pleasant property soon became the victim of mindless vandalism.  Window panes were broken; the panels of the front door were kicked in; the garage door was forced open. Before long, the lace curtains had been ripped from the windows, the garage door became twisted and half out of its frame and graffiti started to appear on the door and the walls.  I have to pass this way quite frequently and, as time passed and more and more damage was inflicted, it was as if the poor building was crying out to me to help it.  I began to wonder just who might own it, why it was being left to be attacked in this way, with no sign of any protection or remedial action.  I fantasised about tracing its owner, evaluating a plan whereby a group of capable young people might be assembled to effect repairs on some community enhancement scheme and put into a state where it might be habitable again.

Eventually, with window frames and garage door now completely removed, even if it were once possible, such an adventurous and far-fetched scheme became unimaginable and, within the last couple of weeks, the poor house has given up the ghost.  Its roof has fallen in, and finally someone has decided that it is no longer safe for the casual wanderer or vandal to go inside.  A most professional, metal fence has suddenly appeared all around it to discourage the ingress of those intent on further exploration or destruction.  I now wonder whether, now that this safety step has been taken, it will be properly demolished and the site either re-used for housing or returned to woodland.

More likely, I fear, it will take advantage of its new enhanced isolation to crumble slowly into a ruin and die a natural death over the next few years.