Home heart and bricks

I think the best part of the day was swinging a pick axe and actually breaking rock. There is something sublimely honest and satisfying working with raw materials, using your own strength and watching bricks and mortar start to resemble a home. Mixing cement is a BITCH! My God I had no idea it was such hard work, then the wind – cement powder flying everywhere, off cuts from the roof falling on my head, a wheelbarrow full of sand landed on my legs. As much as I loathed my illuminous yellow hardhat, as a fashion accessory – that piece of equipment saved my life on many occasions. It was fascinating and gruelling and no there was no distinction made between the type of jobs the males and females were issued – I have to admit, after passing what seemed like the hundredth tile to the guy on the roof – I almost wanted to cry out – For GodSakes man I am a woman – I am not cut out for this – but of course with my pride I wouldn’t dare. In the end I managed. After a bath I was then off to Bantry Bay to see the Greek side of my family! Well from a township and shacks to one of the most palatial, opulent homes I have ever been in – it was quite an amazing experience! From Dust to Mother of Pearl in the space of a couple of hours. My Aunts bedroom was bigger than the entire home we built!

It’s the weekend – I am shocked to the very core that I am still at work! The night awaits!


One thought on “Home heart and bricks

  1. A life of contrasts but don’t take that blue collar attitude too far unless it’s metaphorical.

    And all for a good cause mixing tha dugga

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