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Friday, 9 October 2009

High as a Kite

The head Mafioso builder of the town is constructing three houses close to the back of my modest abode. I wasn't too worried because silly me actually believed him when he said they would not be overlooking anybody's property. One of my foibles being that I always believe people are nice when in fact they are pathological imbeciles.

Between yesterday and today they have built two soaring towers so my garden is no longer a secret garden but a private theatre for the French people that are going to live there. I won't even be able to sit inside the miniature willow tree anymore...or maybe I just will. I mean fer Gud's sake it's the biggest building in town. People are staring at it and going "coño..." (no translation needed).

Erik, the German, my neighbour has four windows looking into his temple. He is selling up. He hopes a builder will tear his place down and build fifty apartments.

If anyone has the right qualifications out there please come and rescue me.

Meanwhile, here's Frederic Mesnier making it all sound so easy.

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