A load of old bricksIf you happened to be in the Kentish Town Road at 6.30 a.m. last Friday you might have seen my … ahem … derrière sticking out of a skip. (If you were sensible, you'd have looked away quickly. Ho, ho; No, not really, I'm sure my bum didn't look that big in it … Er, why's it all gone quiet?)
I'd spotted a skip load of lovely old weathered bricks as I cycled home the previous afternoon, a sight which quickened my heart. (And, believe me, there's not a lot that does that these days…)
As the ground in the vegpatch is a lot damper in these Autumn days (which is good) and quite a lot of it goes home on the soles of our shoes, we needed to put down some little paths next to our raised beds. And because we want to keep appearances up, we thought brick would be nice … except they're expensive and we have a tiny budget. So the Skip Sisters (L and me) were on the lookout, and also passed the word around. After many weeks, and many people claiming to have "only just got rid of" theirs, fate presented us with this bountiful haul. And, by the way, I wasn't up at the crack of dawn because I doing anything illegally, but because the traffic is dreadful in Kentish Town. I had, of course, asked permission to take the bricks as, I imagine, would all of you lot.
Now then, where are those builders when you need them? Er, Frank? Frank? *Tap, Tap* Is anyone there?