Wednesday, 13 July 2011
The painter on the balcony
If you look very carefully at this photo (of the view from our bedroom window), you will see a very thin iron balcony, with a painter on it painting a window. This worries me on two counts:
1. I have no idea how this tiny, slender little balcony stays up in the first place. I don't really know how any building stays up, and it is a constant source of wonder to me that our bath (for example) doesn't come crashing down into our hallway. But this little balcony is something else.
2. I hate heights; for myself and for other people. That well-known photo of builders sitting on a girder eating their sandwiches hundreds of feet up never fails to make me feel queasy. So I am worried about this painter on two counts; heights, and the staying up (or not) of buildings. How bad will his injuries be if the little balcony succumbs? and will I, as a nurse, be expected to rush forth and minister to him? I'm having to restrain myself from shouting at him to be very careful, but then that might make him jump, which could be the straw that brings the balcony down.
I am trying to write something useful, but the possible fate of the painter is most distracting (the corner of the bedroom is my "office"). Oh dear.