Poor Planning. Bad Timing.
For the last 10 days or so, our street has had drainage added and has been in the preparation stages for being paved. Ben and I have been quite excited at the idea of a paved street. Less dust. Easier to ride our bikes down. No more flooding during wet season (fingers crossed). We have also been intrigued by the fact that the government only contributed 15% to the total cost of this infrastructure. The rest was paid for by the families that live along this street (I have a new-found appreciation for Vic Roads).
Despite our enthusiasm for this improvement to our street, we have not been as taken with how it's been executed. I mean, you expect a bit of inconvenience with these things...and we have taken in our stride having to dirt-bike down our street, as the workers created mounds of dirt and rocky hills installing the drainage (I'm amazed at what I can do with my little Honda and her 50cc's of grunt). We even coped just fine with all this happening at the same time our bathroom was being repaired. Which by the way, was done by some of the roadworkers installing this drainage and paving the roads...and as it turns out, was not done very well. Call me naive but I assumed that repairing plumbing would mean that it would work better - not halve our water pressure and leave our brand new spanking bath with broken seals within days of installation. Stupid me.
Anyhoo, today the workers decided it was high time this road got paved. Ben came home at lunchtime and managed to get out just before being trapped in, as they started the cementing process around midday-ish. He gave me a call and gave me the heads up. So I was not surprised when I returned home close to 6pm to find our entire road blocked off.
Now here is where the poor planning kicks in. Although I'm no builder of roads, so maybe I don't know what I'm talking about? But I would have thought that logic would dictate that you paved one half of the street and left the other side unpaved so people could travel down it...and then once that side was dry...you paved the other half. Apparently not. On our street, they decided to do it all in one go and progressively work their way down. So, that when all us little workers trudged home on this Friday evening, we were trapped at the end of our street, staring longingly at our homes.
I parked my beloved bike at the end and locked it up as best as I could...and then made my way down through wet cement to our house, where I had to wash my feet and my thongs. I then called Ben and said that his parents, who were arriving in PP this fine evening...might have some trouble making it down our street with their luggage. Oh dear!
Uncomfortable with the idea of my bike being at the end of the street I rang a friend and organised to park it at their place. So back I trudged down the street only to get to the end and discover I had forgotten my moto key. Idiot! So back through the cement I went again...until the key was in my hands and I could make my way once more (I think the neighbours thought I liked walking in the cement) to my bike and drive it around the corner, where it shall be bike-sat tonight. Thanks Cam and Chanel!
Not long after this, Tim, Pauline and Ben arrived all in good spirits (and they weren't on the scotch and dry's like me). They had soldiered on down the street, in the dark and in their bare feet with all their luggage. Impressive! And whilst I am sure they won't be forgetting this arrival in PP very soon, it would also seem an indelible mark of all our footprints has been left in the cement. Hey, maybe I should go downstairs now and write "Bec & Ben woz ere 2007"???