When the wind puffed away Mysweets Kooldrum workshop, he surveyed the damage and got out his tape measure. The chicken house would have to go. It would be recycled into a new improved, and rather more solid workshop.
Favours were called in.
Children and their muscly chums were lured round with promises of spaghetti bolognese.
Quite a lot of adolescent masculine posturing went on as they worked up the courage to smash things with big hammers.
Sometimes there was even some adult posturing... I expect it is to do with territorial rights.
Breezeblocks were bashed out of the wall, concrete was poured for the floor, and straw was put down between the concrete and the wooden floorboards for insulation.
It looks like this at the moment.
I am told that it is going to be much prettier when it is finished.
I'll let you know...
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