I passed by the clutch of houses this morning, (see last post): there's a weird air of impending endness. Lorries are gathering, the roads are sectioned off, signs have been pasted on doors warning of asbestos.
I had a chat with another onlooker, like myself, curious to know when the deed was going to start.
The man knew: '8.00am Monday. End of the day . . . all done,' he said.
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