Trunk and disorderly

"You're so lucky, working from home," whinged TheBloke (TM).  "I bet you'll have a really lazy day and do nothing at all."

"But," I countered, "someone has to stay in for the tree surgeon.  And also I have piles of work today because - in case you've forgotten - we're off to get married at the end of the week, so I've got bags and bags of work to do."

"Harrumph", harrumphed TheBloke (TM).

Secretly I knew that despite having bags and bags of work to do, hopefully it would be quite a relaxing day.  I could slob around in jeans, sort out all my office work without the phone ringing every three minutes and with no commuting, I had two extra hours of day!

The tree surgeon bit would be easy.  The council had given us permission to cut back the protected council trees that were overhanging our property, and I had already been next door to clear it with Juliet as the workmen would need access to her garden, in order to bring the waste to the street.  I would just let them in, curl up with my laptop and motor through my emails.  Juliet knew the tree surgeon would be here at 10, and all she had to do was give them access to her property.

The rest of my day went something like this.

8.30 a.m.  Get a head start on emails  All is going swimmingly.

9.30 a.m.  Pause to glance round the room and feel smug at how good I am at my job.

9.55 a.m.  See Juliet driving off in her car... Huh?  She needs to be there to let the tree people in.  Oh well, maybe she'll be back in five minutes, or maybe she's left her gate unlocked for them.

10.00 a.m.  Tree people arrive.  Juliet has not left her gate unlocked.  Tree man suggests taking gate off at hinges.  I say that she gave me permission to access her garden... not to break and enter.  I suggest he brings the waste through the house.  He says, "Not ideal, it'll leave loads of mess on your floors."  I said this wasn't a problem.  I would clear it up.  "Also," he adds, "we'll scratch up your walls."  I suggest cutting the waste into smaller pieces, so this isn't a problem.  He grunts.  I let them get on with it.

10.15 a.m.  I see tree waste at the front of the house, but I am 99% certain no-one has brought any through the house.  Unless they have a magic catapult, they have somehow gained access to my neighbour's garden.  I ask one of the tree guys what's going on.  "Oh yes, we took her gate off at the hinges."  Juliet is 85 years old and my tradespeople have just forced an entrance to her property.

10.45 a.m.  "Sorry," says one of the tradespeople.  "I've just stepped on one of your solar lights and broken it."

10.48 a.m. Local "artist" (read: jobless hippy) comes round to talk to workmen.  I assume he wants the wood, as when we chopped down a rowan tree last year, he did the same.  "Work is my medium," he said.  This made me think he was almost certainly a tosser.  I expect to see him with his wheelbarrow any minute.  I ignore him.

11.15 a.m.  The doorbell rings.  It's a man from the council.  Turns out local jobless hippy (sorry, "artist") has reported me for chopping down protected trees (or "pruning" as I believe it's sometimes called - at our expense rather than the council's).  I open my folder, show him the paperwork (signed by him personally) that gives us permission to prune the trees.  He says, "I probably should have checked that before coming out."  He loses points on initiative, but gains some for a twenty-minute response rate.  If we still lived in Tower Hamlets, you could raze an entire building to the ground before the council acted.  And even then they'd probably just clamp your car by mistake.

11.19  a.m.  I go outside to tell the tree people that it's all sorted with the council.  I notice they're tramping through Juliet's garden, so ask them to leave it pristine (seeing as they've broken in).  "Oh, she's here now," the men tell me.  I have an awkward conversation with Juliet, in front of the workmen, where I try and apologise for their behaviour whilst they're standing there.  She is very polite and says, "You've done me a favour because it shows me how easy my property is to break into."  The only favour I have done today is vandalising an 85 year-old's property.  I feel good about myself.

11.45 a.m.  The men have finished their work.  "Any chance of a cup of tea love?"  They then go and do a bit of work for Juliet next door (which makes me feel a bit better about their trespassing)... and leave my mugs at her house.  I can't bring myself to ask for them back.

12.00  The Met Police turn up.  I hope and pray it's not because the tradesmen have been spotted forcing an entry.  I pull the blinds and hope they go away.  They do.

So, relaxing day working from home?  Not exactly.  It'll be a break to be back in the office tomorrow.