Raise your hand if you spent yesterday (which is actually two days ago) demolishing a church. Take my word for it that my hand is rasied. Well it’s not raised but I assure you that if my arms weren’t so damned sore it would be.
Here’s the story: Some family friends of ours are renovating their home or something. Their house now is a bit aged and has a rustic theme or something so rather than build a new extension they decide they want something that’ll match in with the rest of the house.
…Meanwhile, back in Raymond Terrace a church is being sold so a new one can be built or something. The resident holy man does his thing and makes the church unholy again or whatever it is he does. That’s where we come in. The family buys the church, and proceeds to systematically pull it apart to be transported back to Newcastle and reassembled and attached to the house. Rest assured that this is no small task. It’s taken, or should I say taking, weeks of work with half a dozen or so guys and there’s a lot ot do.
Anyway all the wall panels were coming down and being crane loaded onto the back of a truck the other day so I was recruited to help. So the seven of us spent the day in the hot hot sun moving and stacking these really bloody heavy church walls. Needless to say I got my finger jammed under what was probably a few hundred kilos of wood (twice). But no serious injuries, unlike my Dad who got a 2 or 3 inch scratch up the stomach from a rusty nail. Fun fun fun.
All in all a good exhausting day of labouring under the summer sun. A day well spent if you ask me.
