Life has gone very quiet here for the last few days.
This is very unusual. There is nearly always something weird going on, but not this week.
There were a couple of explosions the other night, but that was just Stony.
Stony owns the local quarry [and the Land Fill]. He’s a very nice bloke, and we often have a pint and a smoke together in the pub. But Stony has a problem. I won’t call him bi-polar or anything drastic like that, but he has the occasional fit of depression. You can always tell when one of these moods is coming on, because he starts drinking whiskey.
The word quickly spreads in the village if Stony is on the whiskey, and we all go home and stay there. Because Stony gets a little violent when he is in a mood, and you don’t want to be near a bloke who is a bit violent and has a pocket full of plastic explosive.
I keep telling him not to carry plastic around with him, but he says that you never know when it may come in handy. He pointed out that people often want tree stumps removed or a badly parked tour bus shifted, and I suppose he has a point. He also likes to give lumps of plastic to the local kids so they can use it as modelling clay. He’s very thoughtful.
But something was demolished the other night. It was probably just a few trees. He has been known to blow up an outbuilding or two but no one ever really gets hurt.
Things have been quiet since. Very quiet.
I get nervous when things are so quiet.