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.

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Halloween in disguise

An art director, a real estate agent and an engineer disguised as drywallers.

The moaning lift

So on a dark and stormy Halloween morning I took the kids to their swimming lessons, while Manu, Fabio and Casanova attacked the dry wall. Armed with an old lift that was badly in need of oiling, the guys toiled away to the not so soothing but oh so fitting soundtrack of moaning metal. The Caz took over as chief of operations, being the only one with experience in the drywall domain. But what the crew lacked in knowledge they made up for in attention to detail. So despite having numerous tasks to tackle at their own dream houses, Fabio and Casanova spent the day at ours, working well past the first trick or treaters visit, making sure our ceiling was perfect.

Halloween on the Small Street is a site to behold. The houses are all decked out for the occasion in cobwebs, tombstones, bats and skeletons. And all manor of little Pirates, Princesses, Spidermen and Doras invade the sidewalks. The Small Street's reputation is such that children are even car pooled in from less magical streets for the occasion. But instead of moans and the rattling of chains, the air is filled with laughter and excited squeals of darling little creatures racing from house to house as their parents cheerily strike up conversations in their wake. Maradonna came by with his daughters, Emilie, looking like a cross between Jane Jetson and a Rockette brought her brood, Rose and her muscle-bound mini-Spiderman made an appearance... But most touchingly Daniel, his eldest daughter Lili and their wonderful tenant Donald stopped by with a basket of home made pumpkin goodies: Pumpkin bread, pumpkin marmalade, pumpkin butter a veritable cornucopia of Halloween goodness.

And although our Little Superhero only visited three houses, he has enough candy to last him until Christmas. For the wonderful young couple who live across the street from us had made super-sized Halloween care packages just for our kids. Two huge bags filled with candies of every description, gum and jellies and chocolate and lollipops - enough to put Willy Wonka to shame! - all tied up with orange ribbon and a pretty little Halloween card.

So this incredible chain of events had me thinking, was it Halloween or Thanksgiving? Because we had a lot to be thankful for indeed.

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