“It looks so much better without the scaffolding”, she said.
In truth I hadn’t really noticed.
The newly cleaned brickwork did look surprisingly good for having spent so many years beneath pea-green paint. But the scaffolding hadn’t bothered me. I suppose for her it was just an eyesore, a disruption to the vista.
But to me it looked like something was happening. Work was being done. Something was being created. Even if that something was merely flats that no ordinary person could afford.
Soon the works will be completed. The snagging will be done and the builders will leave.
The building will be absorbed back into the stasis of an Oxfordshire market town.