Tony just pulled out of the driveway, bound for the dump with a load of wrecked drywall, and the foundation crew finished at lunch-time. The grass looks like the aftermath of a rugby tournament, all churned up by the tracks of the digger, and of course the patio stone is still stacked on pallets at the bottom of the garden, but otherwise the place looks as if the Forces of Chaos had never dropped by.
Now I have to figure out how much money to liberate from my investment accounts to pay for it all.
Marco the painter has gladly accepted a return engagement to paint the crime scene.