Tuesday, 4 October 2011

Work Party


This weekend, whilst the sun warmed the world, we worked.

Armed with a house-full of helpful parents, a large mechanical toy, the best weather of the summer and a freshly baked chocolate fudge cake, we lined up our paint tins on the drive and set to work painting the house.

We felt the sun heat our backs and we worked. 

We taped billowing plastic sheets against the window and we worked.

We soared high into the sky on a flimsy mechanical arm, gaping at our neighbour's gardens stretched out below us like a patchwork quilt, and we worked.

We waved 'Hi' and 'Bye' to John over and over again, and we worked.

We donned sunglasses as our light new house became too bright to behold, and we worked.

We felt paint splatter our necks and arms and faces and it didn't occur to us to care as we worked.

And when the very last of the sunlight had gone, our helpers had left and the chocolate fudge cake was just a plate-full of crumbs we hooked the cherry picker back onto the car and took a look at our house.

And it looked vast and smart and finished, and nothing like the sort of house that we should be living in at all.

No comments:

Post a Comment