Our other chimney had leaned into the wind for too long. If our builder hadn’t dismantled it brick-by-brick – I think a gale-force gust may have toppled it in one fell swoop. Luckily for us the old chimney leaned into the prevailing Westerly – and not a northerly or easterly direction. There have been a few nights – when the wind has howled and whistled around the old stack and I have had a fancy that some other invisible force must have braced the chimney until our builder was ready to come; a good builder always has a waiting list!
Glen crowned his masterpiece on Monday – 18th September 2017 – by restoring the original Victorian pot to its rightful place atop thirty-two angled layers of new red bricks. The scaffolder’s skill is worthy of great admiration too – its design and rigidity has enabled Glen to safely access the otherwise inaccessible chimney – I think it’s a remarkable structure – an art form in itself albeit a transient one.
At my behest – Glen’s last flourish – is an inscription in his otherwise super-smooth finish – in memory of Dad who lived here for forty-four years until he passed away on the 6th January 2017 – aged ninety-two.
Thanks Dad X
* * * * * * * * * *
‘Hope is the thing with feathers’ – poem by Emily Dickinson – performed by Máirín O’Hagan.
Bricks and Mortar – and Ties that bind. 27-X-2017.
Or when I go out to the green recycle bin at the end of our yard to dump something whilst preparing an evening meal. I turn around to comeback in – and suddenly – there he is again – up there closer to the stars than me. It’s funny how a chimney can be such a comfort!