We live in a house divided into four flats, of which ours is nicely situated on the ground floor. From time to time the Council needs access to the house for repairs and inspections and for this they need the co-operation of an inhabitant.

Somehow, without me quite knowing how, I seem to have become the unofficial concierge of the building, at least, as far as the Council is concerned. So, whenever there’s work to be done, my phone rings and I am asked whether I can be there to receive the people concerned.

This happened early last week when the Council rang to inform me that they needed to install scaffolding at the rear of the building and to ask whether I could provide access for the scaffolders. They proposed Friday, July 9th, and as Tigger was working on that day I was happy to agree. The scaffolders would arrive at some time between 8 am and 12 pm.

Friday duly arrived and Tigger went off to work, leaving me to complete all the usual morning chores before 8 am. I did so and settled down to await the expected ring on the doorbell. For good measure, I hooked back the curtain of the living room window, so that I could keep watch on the road for the arrival of the lorry.

The expected ring on the doorbell never came and no scaffolding lorry ever appeared in the street. I was left waiting, like a jilted bride at the altar.

This was not only annoying but also embarrassing. Taking my concierge’s role seriously, I had drafted a notice and affixed it to the inside of the front door to be seen by our neighbours, informing them of the expected visit by the scaffolders. When this didn’t happen, it made me look silly and I felt duly embarrassed.

Had I perhaps misunderstood the date? I was sure that I had not made a mistake and this was confirmed on Tuesday morning when my phone rang. It was the nice lady from the Council who had called me the week before. The scaffolders, she said, had reported that they had been unable to gain access to the property and had therefore not been able to do the job. I leave you to imagine my reaction to this! I had waited in all day, I said, and kept watch on the street. If they couldn’t gain access it was because they hadn’t come here!

The nice lady asked would I be able to provide access for a return visit and would Friday the 16th be a good day? As Tigger is again working on Friday, it would be a very good day.

Today, then, I went through the familiar routine, finishing off the chores and making myself ready by the time the hands of the clock were creeping towards 8 am. Then I settled down to watch and wait.

At about 8:15, I saw the scaffolders’ lorry draw up outside. They have kept the appointment this time. I went out to meet them and showed them to the back garden which is their field of activity today.

As I write this, I can hear the scaffolders at work in the back garden. Together with the clank of metal stays and the thud of wooden planks, there is the characteristic whirr of electric spanners. Putting up scaffolding that is fit for its purpose and safe for those who stand on it must be an art as well as a science. I have read of accidents where scaffolding has collapsed leading to loss of life.

Later…

All went well until about 10 am when the scaffolders knocked on our door. They were angry and frustrated because they were unable to finish the job. They then gathered up their kit and departed. What had gone wrong?

All had been well, they told me, until they reached the balcony of the top flat which they needed to access to continue the work. At that point, the lady who lives there appeared and, in their words, “went mental, threatening to throw herself off the balcony”. She claimed that no one had informed her, much less asked her permission, to access the balcony and that she would not allow it on pain of self-harm. In the circumstances, the scaffolders could only stop the work.

I phoned the Council and spoke to the nice lady who had arranged the appointments, passing on what the scaffolders had told me. I left the matter in her no doubt capable hands and wait to be contacted about yet another appointment for the scaffolding work to be completed.

It seems that a concierge’s work is never done… 🙂