When the Great Storm Silenced the Wind Chimes.
The garden shed? Gone. Just gone. Lifted into the air like Dorothy’s house in the Wizard of fucking Oz! Landed three streets over, now being used as a vape lounge by teenagers who think Led Zeppelin is a brand of Fucking crisps.
And the conservatory? Flattened. But it was full of spiders and regret anyway. Now it’s a patio. A natural patio. With character. And a wheelie bin embedded in the wall like modern Fucking art!
The Insurance man came round, looked at the place, said, “This is a disaster. Mr Corbridge” I said, “No, mate this is progress. The storm did what I’ve been threatening to do for years. It renovated the house and silenced the neighbour’s bastard wind chimes!”
So yes, £10,000 worth of improvement. And all it cost was dignity, a trampoline, and half a fence now residing in Belgium.
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