Immovable object meets improbable force

The landscaper who made such a fantastic job of my path and end-of-garden patio was last here 14 weeks ago. Since then he's been working partly on his own loft conversion, and partly on other jobs that haven't needed his cement mixer, power washer nor huge, heavy bridge-saw. So they have been sitting on my terrace. Nine times I've hinted gently, or asked more assertively, if he can collect them. This afternoon he phoned in response to today's text - could he and his wife come now? (The bridge-saw is a 2½-person job.) They most definitely could. I stopped sharpening the kitchen knives, dragged the floor coverings in from the shed and put my bins out in the road to reserve a parking space for his truck.

This is one of two moments (the other was the dog-leg at the bottom of the stairs) when things could have gone seriously wrong - there was 5mm clearance on each side here. But they didn't - I was the half-person making sure nothing metal touched my door. 

Now there is space on the terrace for me to sling my hammock and I'm going to celebrate tomorrow by buying the fixings. I'll celebrate on Saturday by fixing them and then I shall celebrate for as long as summer lasts by lying in the hammock.