An Accident Not Waiting

An Accident Not Waiting

A man in a digger ran into the side of my house this morning, demolishing the entire corner. I wouldn’t mind but it was a new extension, finished just a month ago. That is not true, the bit about not minding - I don’t know why I said it, but the rest unfortunately is true. ‘Sorry luv,’ the bloke said, ‘but it’s difficult to turn here, houses being so close together’. ‘Of course they are close,’ I snapped, ‘ this is a close, Cowslip Close to be exact, the clue is in the name’. There was a pause. ‘Well, what are you going to do?’ I asked. He scratched his shaved head and shrugged. ‘I’ll need someone to tow it to a garage, see what the damage….’ ‘Not your truck, my extension!’ Was he a complete idiot? ‘Hey,’ I said, ‘I’m talking to you,’ as he wandered off. My name is Chris O’Grady and I am an artist. When I was at school I used to look with pity at other girls who had wanted to be hairdressers or pop stars or, pupils like swotty Anthea Dowland wanted to do something really boring like work in finance and ‘have a secure ordered lifestyle,’ as she called it. We all hated her. And of course there was Jade Timms who wanted to be a mugger; we all pretended to like her and her Neanderthal brother. However, I always knew I wanted to be an artist and now at the age of twenty three, I had already had three exhibitions and found that my work sold well. I had sunk all my savings from grandma’s will into this extension which was to be a beautiful new studio, north-facing, with a skylight, I’d always wanted a skylight, all proper artists had to have a skylight. When that it was finished, I will admit that here were a few things I would have done differently, but nothing to warrant knocking it down. Looking at it now, I wanted to cry, but there was no time.

I phoned the police. ‘A man has demolished part of my house with his truck’ ‘Are you sure?’ asked a very annoying female voice. ‘No I am not sure, I’m just a complete blathering idiot. Perhaps he was practising the piano or reciting poetry and I just mistook this for driving into a corner of my house. ‘There is no need to be sarcastic’ she replied huffily. ‘I’ll stop being sarcastic if you stop being stupid,’ I said and slammed the phone down. I tried the fire service. ‘Is anybody trapped inside?’ asked an officious voice. ‘No’ ‘Then we cannot do anything. You’d be surprised how many frivolous calls we get concerning cats stuck in trees and people who have locked themselves out of their cars.’ ‘This is not frivolous’ I shouted, ‘the side of my house is about to collapse.’ ‘There is no need to shout, I’m not deaf.’ ‘You might as well be for all the use you’ve been’. No joy there then. I tried the Council. ‘If it is a road traffic accident, you need the police’ ‘It’s not a traffic accident, my house is stationary, the man ran into it. I was not driving it down the motorway’. ‘Some people do,’ he replied, ‘rather than buy a different home, they just re-locate the one they have, I’ve seen it on the telly.’ ‘Did I phone to ask you about your viewing habits? ‘Sorry?’ ‘Can you help or not?’ I was becoming exasperated. ‘What with, I’ve lost the thread now.’

‘You’ll lose a few teeth if I ever meet you.’ I tried some builders. ‘You need a vet love’ ‘A vet?’ ‘Yeah, if he’s run over your horse.’ I tried a differently-abled builder. ‘I can’t do anything until a structural engineer does a report.’ He said I kept hoping that I would wake up and find it was all a bad dream, then suddenly had a brilliant idea. Friends, I decided, my friends will want to help. I was always there for them, and you know what they say, a friend in need etc. ‘Are you sure it is that bad?’ asked one, ‘Perhaps the wall just needs re-pointing’. ‘Do you normally re-point walls prior to building them?’ ‘Er….. no’. ‘There you go then.’ Two more friends of the fair weather variety later, found me at my wits end. I had finished shouting, insulting, sarcasm and tearing my hair out and my extension was still in danger of falling down.

Than I had a brainwave. I got out my video camera and set it up on a tripod, pointed it at the extension and pressed record. Gradually bits fell off as the day progressed, just the odd brick at first, then a few roof tiles. ‘You want to get that seen to,’ said my neighbour, Bert. ‘’Do you think so?’ I said, ‘well I’d never thought of that.’

Night fell and I changed the batteries and borrowed some spotlights, which I angled towards the extension, then went to bed. The next morning I continued videoing until the side of the house had completely collapsed.

My problem is now resolved. I eventually found some sensible builders, and a solicitor to get compensation from the truck man. My new extension is even nicer as I was able to make a few changes The studio has a very special area with a screen upon which can be watched my video installation entitled ‘Nothing is permanent but Woe’ which won the this years Turner Prize.