We spent the first week of August pacing up and down the battlements of Maywrite Towers, staring hopefully down the road and, it must be admitted, occasionally muttering what certain Golden Age of Mystery writers referred to as continental objurgations.
Severe storms lashed the area late last month, toppling a tree next door. It ended up spread-eagled over most of the neighbor's lawn, blocking our right-of-way, in the process smashing down on his car, damaging the corner of our house, tearing off our phone and power lines, and sandwiching them between his car roof and its leafy burden. Thankfully its upper limbs missed our buggy by a couple of feet, a close shave Sweeney Todd would most likely have awarded a B+.
We've related our brushes with assassin trees before * but seeing as we've never had a disrespectful word to say about Ents or left rubbish in bosky dells -- and indeed have planted trees in two countries -- it's more than a bit shabby one of them came a-calling, or should we say a-falling. This time Fortuna smiled benignly as our power stayed on, even with the line lying on wet ground.
Kind neighbours helped us organise necessary calls and the following morning saw assorted utility personnel arriving in convoy after the fashion of the traditional elephant parade down Main Street announcing the circus had come to town.
The power crew's gaffer took one look at the shambles and observed "That's bad!" in an ominous tone. It seemed at first glance for technical reasons a repair to the house was necessary before they could restring the power line. The repair was outside their bailiwick so we'd have to engage a carpenter to handle it. Once we'd snared one, we were to notify them of the date and a crew would arrive to turn off power so the repair could be effected, following which the power line would be immediately restrung.
Then the phone wallah could be sent for to restore service since the power line would be raised above his working space. Meantime he gave us a temporary hookup.
However, after a lively discussion, the crew decided it would be possible to restore power by attaching the doings a short distance over from their original location on the siding. Thus we had a front row seat as they cut the power, tossed a stout white rope over next door's car, attached rope to line, and pulled it up and over the tree cuddling the vehicle.
Another crew arrived next morning to begin the two-day task of removing the tree, in the process breaking our temporary phone hookup. The phone company informed us reconnection could not be made for almost a fortnight. Persistence obtained a promise the job would be expedited/red flagged, but no date could be given because scheduling was organised by its contractors. Who said we might be reconnected sooner if a service call was cancelled. Unlikely, we thought, but hope, that waking dream, springs eternal.
Hope withered on the vine as time passed. We had no ringie-dingies for thirteen days before service was back. Yet Fortuna continued to be gracious, since during the process of reconnection it was discovered the line was damaged so the whole run from house to pole was replaced on the spot. On the glorious day they galloped up the hill, the phone cavalry had just begun work when my keyboard began to conk out, so though phone service was restored I was not out of the woods yet. Trees again, you notice.
According to the Good Book, the wind may bloweth where it listeth. We just hope next time it gets that angry it'll listeth to bloweth elsewhere-eth.
* http://reedmayermysteries.000webhostapp.com/tos89.htm#trees
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