To Your Right Bob! (bp coyle)

This week I have been working nights. In at ten, home at six when the world is waking up. It’s a bit a a drag but not so bad if I can sleep.

However there is construction work going on in the apartment block behind mine, practically outside my bedroom window. They start each day at nine, right after I have collapsed into bed. On the stroke of the hour a seriously loud, building shaking motor turns on.

Ten minutes after this the same shouted conversation begins.

‘Move it to your right Bob.’

‘What?’

‘Move it to your right Bob!’

‘What?’

‘To your right Bob!!!’

‘What?’

I guess Bob is either stone deaf or else standing too close to the motor to hear a word. Either way, this endlessly repeated refrain is making me want to cry. I am so tired.

Today I could take it no more. I opened my window and screamed at the top of my voice. ‘FOR THE LOVE OF GOD BOB, PLEASE MOVE IT TO YOUR BLOODY RIGHT!

Then I threw myself back into bed and buried my head beneath my pillow.

I hope Bob knows his right from his left.

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