For once in my life

 I take the sledgehammer, slide my hands along the handle feeling the smooth ash from years of use by various people. Now the tool is balanced just right, just ready and I take a swing. All the physics are working and with a dull thud the head smacks into the wall making a satisfying dent in the pink plaster.

‘Are you sure Grahame, really sure, is it safe?’. Sue looks at me concerned and pulls baby Jack closer.

‘Yes, yes, absolutely. Right, you two, pack up your drawing and stand over there with mum or go into the lounge’. Joe & Rebecca’s faces have gone from ‘excited this is different’, to ‘slightly unsure but up for an adventure’, but still happy toddlers. I get ready to take another swing.

‘Stop, just let’s get the breakfast things cleared away at least’. I put down the hammer, leaning it against our sad looking rubber plant and together we clear the room. The kids carry pencils, paper, books, favourite toys into the other room. Then they help moving dishes and cereal packets, beakers into the kitchen.

‘Why today’?

‘What, not today? We’ve talked about this long enough’.

‘Don’t we need some professional help’.

‘No I’ve got this, stand back everyone’

‘Watch the dog’.

‘Come here Mr Saturday, get out, scram and stop that barking you’. I let the dog sniff the metal hammer head, a cautious unsure movement, his black nose sucking and blowing, with a suspicious growl he then retreats to his basket. The second blow sends a diagonal crack across the wall. “There told you it would be easy, we’’ll have this done in no time’

‘Are you sure this wall isn’t holding anything up? The house won’t collapse will it’? Sue looks at me alarmed.

‘No not a chance’. Except there may be a chance, although I don’t honestly think so. I’m pretty sure it will be okay, but maybe I should have pulled up carpets up in the bedroom to check. Ah well.

The third swing. I have momentum now and bricks with pink plaster attached shoot out crashing into the dining table. ‘Oops sorry about that, still it’s a just an old thing hey’. The table made from old bits of wood, a packing case for the top isn’t worth anything so I’m not worried.  ‘It’ll be great when its done. Remember we’ve talked for ages about having an open plan kitchen diner. Back up kids, just in case’

All four squash against the cupboards and sink in the kitchen as far back as possible in our small house. With a wonderful sickening crash the old doorframe between the two rooms collapses and in just a few further ‘demolition derby’ minutes the wall is gone leaving jagged edges and raw brick.

“Look at the space, wonderful hey’. The two rooms are now one. We are all covered in dust, a fine sprinkling everywhere. The dining room is strewn with bricks, lumps of plaster and the door and mangled frame lean against another wall.

Sue and I both look up. Nothing sags, nothing creaks. ‘There see all’s fine, just as I thought’. She’s not so sure and won’t let the kids anywhere near and for the next week will look upwards every time she walks underneath.

‘We should have done this, months ago as soon as we moved in’ I say.  Around us there is a definite transformation. There seems to be more space, well there is more space. Although we have to live in a mini building site for several months afterwards until we get a plasterer to tidy up the mess I’ve made. And it’s tricky switching on the dining room light which now, as it swings in open space, but hey.

‘Wow daddy that was great’ says Joe, smiling up at me and the children have a great morning helping to move the smaller bricks and plaster and building a castle in the back garden with the rubble on surprisingly mild December day.

‘You’re pleased I know you are, go on you can say it’. I smile a dusty smile at `Sue and then attempt a kiss, which is rejected with a firm hand to the chest’.

‘That’s good t shirt and you’ve still got your slippers on too’

‘No time like the present’.

‘It’s Boxing Day for goodness’ sake. Why today? And it’s 8.30 the morning.’ And in truth I haven’t got an answer. I was just sat eating my toast, feeding Jack in his highchair and thought yes let’s do it, so I did.

Now thirty, maybe forty years later I realise I miss those slightly cavalier days, when decision making seemed easy and the consequences further down the track, or not even thought about at all. Now, when I make a decision, everything gets considered, sudden urges to do things get reflected on, then thought through again, worried about at four in the morning. I always imagined age and experience would let me be more free but now maybe I know too much, I’ve listened to too many stories. Even going up a ladder now is fraught with tales of falls, but surely I’m only cleaning the gutters out, aren’t I?

Writing ‘once in my life’ about a Christmas demolition story made me smile and I know when I go to the garden shed next and pick up that heavy hammer, and it is heavy now, that Boxing Day will come flooding back. Lovely!

By Grahame Pitts