Idle random thoughts whilst laying bricks

The Client doesn't like Wings of Desire. She got up and left the cinema after fifteen minutes. She says that real people don't have profound philosophical thoughts about the meaning of life when they're sat in the metro. She says that they're thinking about things like 'is there enough cat litter to last out the week?'

Do you ever get the feeling that you're watching the movie of your life? Just like in the cinema you watch the hero and say to yourself 'Why is he doing that? I certainly wouldn't do that if I was in his shoes' but the guy justs carries on regardless of your thoughts on the subject. Somewhere in me there's a spectator in the front row seat with a big bucket of popcorn and the answer, but I'M NOT LISTENING.

What else should I write about? After all I'm only building a wall. After you've recovered from the excitement of the first course it's like watching paint dry. The cement burns my skin till it bleeds. The rubber gloves would help but I loose contact with the mortar. On the sack the instructions suggest that the mortar should be 'unctuous'. How could I tell whether or not it was 'unctuous' through rubber gloves?

Living dangerously

The Client has taken to doing nothing.

Girls are always supposed to good at being whilst we boys excel at doing, or so the builders self help guide to laying glass blocks tells me on page 44 (with a diagram).

When I say she’s doing nothing, this is a slight exaggeration as she’s actually sitting with her feet up reading a book next to our chic green garden table, which, as the only big piece of viable furniture we own, adorns the bare concrete living room. She’s been there for nearly an hour and a half and apart from an occasional trip to the window for a cigarette has apparently not changed position since I donned my blue overalls picked up my mighty trowel and sallied forth to fight the anarchy and chaos in our lives. Looking up from my tub of mortar in the garage I see regular wisps of white smoke from the living room window. Another Pope perhaps?

To be fair to The Client, the game consists of working in secret so as to annoy The Architect. As soon as my back is turned she drops the book and gets on with whatever there is to be done. The minute she hears my footsteps on the stair she drops everything and resumes her reading.

It is a well developed technique.

And it works every time.

Encore des briques?

Progress is slow. One row takes a generous half day. The timber form was a help at first but the changing humidity has a disastrous effect on the geometry. The level is now established with a laser.

For The Skater (I know, it's boring.....no kickflips etc.)

Glass blocks

The Architect is back on the job building a wall.
A Glass block wall.

Convoluted temporary timber structures define volumes and curves in space. Concrete, mortar and glass fill the volumes. All this just to daylight the garage? A garage that The Client has already declared as redundant.


The Architect is momentarily struck by a fit of deconstructivism as the formwork becomes more interesting than the finished product.


Beware of false idols.