Fuel.

It’s as well I’m who I am these days, and not who I was those days. When pushed I neither cower nor switch to attack mode. Annalyze. Then act. This seems to be the way of it.

I don’t mean if a drunk acosts you in the street. Good grief, the chances of me being in a position for that to happen a pretty remote anyway. More when faced with a sudden, unexpected obstacle. Either a preplaced tyre ripper upon your trail or one lobbed in front of you by some random arsehole.

Such as today. Building Control appeared at the place I’m desperately trying to finish before the baby arrives to investigate unwarranted building works. Of which there are none. The illegal boiler was legal. The horrible wooden porch was built 30 years and three owners ago and has been inspected by the Council in the last five years. The patio windows were fitted to replace the existing rotten ones.

The inspector was clued up, ex-tradesman. We went out separate ways in good spirits. Honour and legality satisfied, all points answered in full.

But. I know who wrote the letter of complaint. He and all the other neighbouring properties are now under investigation for unwarranted and importantly more recent building works which I pointed out to the inspector.

Should have kept your mouth shut, eh motherfucker?

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