I was busy working this morning when I heard that bloody HH crane start up. 'Here we go again' I thought. Mr HH regularly comes to play with his toy, just to make sure it works. Sometimes he actually uses it to move stuff, but nine times out of ten, it just sits there chugging out horrendous fumes. This means that:
- I have to rush around closing windows.
- Swear out loud when I remember my sheets are hanging outside.
- Run outside to fetch the sheets in.
- Swear again when I realise it's too late, they're already impregnated by filth and fumes.
- Sit muttering to myself about loss of earnings.
- Get really bad-tempered and start 'twittering'.
- Publicly (twitter) threaten what I'm going to do to that pile of junk.
- Start a headache.
- Feel sick.
- Tell all of the above to my grumpy old man when he returns.
- Try to continue working.
- Throw bits of work across the room because the fume-induced headache means I can't see what I'm doing (squinty, serious work).
|If this gets lit while I'm at home|
|I cannot vouch for the safety of the crane|
The crane was running to itself for probably 40 minutes while Mr Heanor Haulage and his buddy went around collecting more wood for their bonfire to be.
As is my wont when I'm in a foul temper - mostly caused simply by being in this hovel ... and I'm referring to Langley Mill here - I went around the perimeter of Heanor Haulage and took some lovely photos.
Getting back to my moan about this BLOODY crane, my main annoyance is because it's right near our houses, when there's a huge amount of empty space it could be in. Thus no matter whether he actually uses it for lifting - or just fannies about with it as usual - it is always puthering super-filthy fumes and muck for the first ten minutes or so, and should be well away from us.
Plus when Asda and MR HH got permission to foist an Asda upon us, one of the biggest changes for Mr HH, was that ALL THEIR OPERATIONS WOULD HAVE TO BE IN AN ENCLOSED BUILDING WITH THE DOORS SHUT!
So go on then, tell me what he's tw***ing about at ...