There we are, peacefully slumbering just after sunrise, when our dreams are banished by the most awful flippin' racket outside.
"Uhrrr, wossat noise?"
"Dunno. Sounds like a broken moped without a silencer being driven over rocks without its tyres."
"What? Maybe it'll stop in a minute."
The noise, however, continued. Eventually I looked outside. Some goon is pushing a clapped out rotovator around the ex-flowerbed in the traffic island opposite one's residence. [Insert oath here]. Then Mr Motorcycle man downstairs starts up his high pressure washer, followed by the piledriver on the bulding site up the road. [Insert further oath here]. This went on for some time - here's some edited highlights.
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