Builders

I've marked a load of student work this morning and while the computer is charging so I can do a bit of writing, I'll moan about the builders.
It seems to be the nature of living here in the 'burbs that neighbours, who come and go with depressing frequency, move into an already nice house and then gut it completely.
After more than two years of yelling, bashing and general bad builder behaviour over the road while the prize-winning and ultra-certificated OWCH premises were built, I'm now sandwiched between hearty, bashy builders. I've got the ear protectors that I used to have to wear a couple of years ago, but it still means that recording is simply impossible.
Have I written about the interview for BBC Radio Sheffield a few weeks ago where I had to go down the road and ask a builder to stop hacking a pipe out of the wall for half an hour because I was about to do a live broadcast? He was very nice about it, but then knocked on the door ten minutes later, nanoseconds before the interview was due to start, asking when he'd be able to start again!
This lot started off being quite entertaining: you know, the knowledgeable older one telling his apprentice all sorts of guff just to assert his authority and the apprentice patiently listening while noting secretly that it's all a load of rubbish (you see, I'm a mind-reader!).
Now the gaffer has got nasty. He spent most of yesterday morning shouting at people on his mobile while standing on the street outside my door so that no-one could hear him in the house that's being done up. He has  allow opinion of everyone, it appears, and I'm glad he's not there today.
Today's nosies are echoing cockney voices. I think that are painting now, from the length of the silences, although I can't hear the brush strokes. I can hear bits of hectic sandpapering.
I have been listening for so long that I could draw you a floor plan of the house just from the sonic shaping that I've heard. And it's not even next door!
On the other side, the thrill is to start at 9 a.m. on a Sunday, wake me up, and then stop at 11.
The randomness of this all is what makes it impossible to record anything. Everything is set up for programming, but even with the headphones on I can still hear it all going on in the background.
Oddly, it makes less difference when I'm writing the book: it's almost comforting to hear that there is more to life than just me and the laptop in our intense relationship.
OK! Coffee time, then back to (writing) work. At least I'm having this afternoon off!