I've just been watching some workmen arriving at my neighbour-at-the-bottom-of-my-garden. They're obviously about to have a new roof put on their house. Drat. (hence the title of this post). My house is on higher ground than theirs, so their roof looks directly onto my back deck, or vice versa (and someone on the roof can look straight in to my bathroom window, for which I do not have frosted glass - some kind of towel hanging arrangement will have to be made for when I take a shower...). The compensation is two very fit, very tanned young men, one of whom looks rather like the young builder on Coronation St (not the nasty one, Charlie, the young gormless but decorative one whose name escapes me just now). Both flashed white teeth at me and waved cheerily. Bringing the supplies seemed to necessitate a large truck pulling into the driveway unsuccessfully about four times, then a crane operation inexplicably to the tune of "Camptown Ladies" or something similar... Oh well, it could be amusing. Or not.