Oh God... Why do people like you try to write..

> From: david west <[log in to unmask]>
> Reply-To: Guaranteeing the preservation of heart and myth
> <[log in to unmask]>
> Date: Sun, 7 Jul 2002 08:48:09 +1000
> To: [log in to unmask]
> Subject: one day down under
>
> The slight bulge on the surface draws the chisel.  Tap
> of the mallet, and the sandstone explodes into
> fragments, raining down onto the pavement below.  As
> the sun rises on this winter Saturday, the wind off
> the mountains chills the fingers gripping the edge of
> the cherrypicker bucket. "Left", my colleague shouts,
> and we lurch perilously closer to the facade.
> Scanning the surfaces of this decaying Skyscraper
> Gothic edifice, we look for evidence of loose pieces
> of stone.
>
> I used to enjoy makesafe inspections.  Something to do
> with seeing the raw freshness of decay exposed; or the
> revelation of processes.  But now I've done enough to
> be able to see the decay without opening up.  And it
> just saddens me to see the weeping sores appear on the
> flanks of the building.  Especially on this building,
> for I've been doing makesafe inspections here for
> seven years, and each year the symptoms spread.  Some
> preventive measures five years ago would have made so
> much difference, but the money was never spent.  And
> now there is that invidious downwards spiral in action
> ... too much money required to pull together the
> life-saving refurbishment and redevelopment; but not
> enough money available to do any preventive work; and
> so the deterioration gathers pace, so that next year
> even more money will be required.
>
> Meanwhile, my stonemason colleague has been tooling
> off the thin scale - these days, it is water
> penetration from leaking downpipes that is driving
> most of the decay.  Sand and tiny flakes of sandstone
> shower us from time to time, as a stone that appears
> intact disintegrates with the first tap of the chisel.
>
> Below us, the city is stirring slowly to life.
> Pedestrians pick their way around our barriers,
> cursing at the inconvenience (little do they realise
> how inconvenient it would be if we failed to remove a
> piece of stone that fell to the pavement as they
> passed).  The time passes with the roar of the
> cherrypicker's diesel, and we brush through the trees
> back to the pavement.
>
> Brief the young engineer who's going to do the rest of
> this makesafe with the stonemason, and off I head
> across the city to another site.  Same age buildings,
> similar stone.  Better condition, and yet just as sad.
> For though the tradesmen seem to be trying hard, they
> don't have the experience to deal with the issues, and
> again, the owner doesn't want to spend the money he
> needs to.
>
> The wind buffets the swinging stage as we haul
> ourselves along the monorail into position.  At least
> we're in the sun.  And in the park behind us, a
> saxophonist breaks into soaring jazz riffs.  We're
> inspecting windows this morning.  Revising the scope
> of works, so that we only do the most essential tasks
> (and the cheapest).  Put the building into a holding
> pattern, and we'll worry about it again some other
> time.
>
> We work our way along the facade, finding panes of
> broken glass here, and areas of decayed timber there.
> Concern from the foreman when we find that the infill
> panels above the curved windows are fibro (asbestos
> cement sheet).  We'll need to change the work method
> to manage that risk.
>
> And then its time to change to another swinging stage.
> Around the corner, and onto the next one.  Picking
> our way past open windows, we go to ascend, and the
> stage won't move.  Emergency stop button tripped.
> Where's the key?  Here.  It won't go in.  Let me try.
> Oh shit.  I've got another one.  Try that.  Doesn't
> work either.  What the fuck is going on?  Maybe
> there's part of a broken key stuck inside.  Yeah,
> could be.
>
> Sit in the wind for a few minutes.  Saxophonist is
> still serenading us, unknowing how comforting the
> sound is to us.  Ponder whether to begin the long wind
> down on the safety brakes.  Then the foreman has an
> idea. Radios a colleague to look for a broken swinging
> stage key in the office.  Five minutes later -
> success.  Broken key found.  Next challenge, will this
> work?  Passed out through the window, fingers fumbling
> with too much haste.  The key turns, stop button
> releases.  Away we go.
>
> Phone rings.  "They've shut us down".  City's rangers
> have told the boys on the makesafe inspection to stop
> work.  Something to do with footpath permits I'm told.
> "Hang on", I say.  I'm on my way.
>
> Run across town.  Still wearing my harness and hard
> hat.  No wonder families look at me strangely.  Cherry
> picker is packed up, pavement swept.  I curse.  We
> can't afford to come back another day.  What happened,
> I demand to know.  Listen to conflicting explanations.
> Look for numbers to call.  Nobody thought to get the
> ranger's name or number.  Why can't people think?
>
> Jump into my car, scream off over the bridge back to
> the office.  Where will I find permit conditions?
> Onto the internet, check the City's website.  Out of
> desperation, call the office (who works in the City
> office on a Saturday afternoon).  Somebody answers.
> Disbelief.  Miracle.  Its somebody who can make
> decisions.  We discuss it.  He tells me to go back to
> work.  I turn round, head back.  Another phone call.
> Maybe not.  Problem is pedestrian safety.  We discuss.
> I make promises (there goes my afternoon).  Back to
> site.  This is the way it is going to be.  The traffic
> control guy has found some more staff.  We reorganise,
> the cherry picker repositions.  Away we go.  I watch,
> eagle-eyed.  Keep those pedestrians away.
>
> Shut-down time looms.  The boys are racing the clock
> now.  Trying to cover the last few bays of the facade.
> Cherrypicker driver threatens to bring them down,
> they plead for one more minute - we all know they want
> ten.  Eventually its all over.  Down they come.  Now I
> get to sign away my life for another six months.
>
> Thank the team for their efforts.  No time for a beer
> - they all have other jobs to go to.  Such is the pace
> of working in the city on a weekend.
>
> ------------------------------------
>
> cheers
> david
>
> http://www.sold.com.au - SOLD.com.au
> - Find yourself a bargain!
>
> --
> To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
> uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
> <http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>

--
To terminate puerile preservation prattling among pals and the
uncoffee-ed, or to change your settings, go to:
<http://maelstrom.stjohns.edu/archives/bullamanka-pinheads.html>