I was sorry to find that today did not offer me the pleasure and respect which I have come to expect from a Tuesday.
The building work on a new extension to my partner's office began this morning, so lots of extraneous noise to disturb Ewan's and my early-morning game of football in the yard. Once we had settled into a pattern of work and proceeded agreeably for a few hours there came, at around mid-day, a terrific and most unsettling bang. The lights and computers were instantly reduced to blackness and the fire alarm began to sound. Ewan immediately showed the limits of his bravery by hiding under a desk, crying. Bradley and my partner's boss attended to the protesting fire alarm while my partner and I went to see what had happened.
The two builders, left unsupervised (I believe such gentlemen are known in professional spheres as "complete muppets"), had commenced digging foundations with their JCB digger, not having bothered with the boring and pointless preamble of a ground-scan, and the JCB had severed directly through the main electrical and telephone cables. The LIVE cable was sticking out of the ground directly outside the back door at a 90-degree angle; straight up towards the sky. HOW the JCB driver was not dead remains, to me, a complete mystery. My partner and her colleagues were very cross indeed. As if this was not bizarre ineptness on the part of the builders enough, what happened next defied even my belief (and I have a VERY broad mind).
When my partner and I surveyed the scene, it was possible for even a human nose to, quite literally, SMELL the electricity in the air. Getting the better of her angry incredulity, my partner pointed out that perhaps something should be done to secure the prominent cable which was inviting all-comers to a swift and really quite spectacular death at the slightest touch of its many-thousand-volted tips. At this suggestion from my partner, the other builder grabbed a spade and began prodding at the cable indiscriminately.
"Is that spade metal all the way to the top?" asked my partner, hardly believing what we were witnessing. The builder said that it was. "Then put it down before you DIE!!!" said my partner, looking down at me and shaking her head. I sighed. Stupidity CAN be painful. A lesson there for three certain little cats, I feel.
After Bradley and the boss had retreated indoors to telephone those responsible for these sturdy examples of the construction profession, and the door had been gently closed on the japes outside, my partner remained behind in the outer workshop for a moment, to get her breath back following the madness we had just witnessed. As the phrase "D'you know, I think we can re-wire this ourselves..." drifted towards us from the other side of the door, my partner scooped me up and hastened us both into a more secure environment. It took several minutes with Bradley and the boss to convince the builders that they should not toy with several tens of thousand volts of all-too-live electricity.
So, an early end to another day for me. I confess that I was somewhat sorry that we did not have the company of a certain someone (yes, him) in the office. I wanted to see what happened if someone wee-ed on the cable.
The local electricity board claim that they will have been out to fix the cable by tomorrow morning. As to who will turn up to mend the builders when my partner's boss's boss has finished with them, only time can tell us.