Second Hand Dust

The dust clouds behind the plastic sheeting.

The dust, not content to invade every nook and cranny of the Tall House, has branched out to the neighbour's. And they are hopping mad. I must say I can't blame them. It's bad enough for us, but we created it. Nobody wants to have to deal with our second hand dust. Like second hand smoke, second hand dust is extremely irritating mostly because the person on whom it is inflicted has absolutely no say in the matter.

Unfortunately, in all the excitement of last week, we forgot one very crucial element: we didn't warn Daniel and Donald that the bricks needed to be sawed in order to make way for the doors. And of course the weather was unseasonably warm for November, and of course their windows were wide open, and of course that red brick dust went flying through, and of course the damn stuff stains. So most of their weekend, apparently, was spent cleaning up after us.

What pains me the most is that Daniel has been a brick, no pun intended, throughout the whole process, patiently taking all our banging and debris in stride. And of course we adore Donald, he of the Halloween cakes, jams and marmalade. Neither deserve to have their home invaded by the red plague.

So Manu has offered, at least, to help clean up Daniel's terrace and I will try and soften them up with liquor. Not the hard stuff, just a bottle of wine. But I think I'd better make it a good one.