Eulogy to a Faithful Servant

A forest has appeared at the entrance of our road. Although made of wood, this man-made plantation does not contribute any oxygen to the planet, as the wood is dead and the signs themselves are undoubtably in part plastic, or some sort of composite.

Their arrival was gradual.
First one appeared.
Then a second.
Followed shortly by a third, and so on.

They stand like a hastily recruited, mismatched guard of honour, that would look at home as the cast of a Beano cartoon, shouting out a warning to would-be purchasers,
"Everyone wants to leave! This is not the place to buy a house!"

I do not understand why estate agents litter our neighbourhood with these signs.
Does they make the place look attractive and aspirational?
No! 
The role of an Estate Agent is to market the area as desirable. Ironically, their signs make it feel anything but.

In reality, there are over 100 properties accessed down this road. It is inevitable that there will be a regular turnover in ownership. Does this mean that we will continually have to live with this clutter?
Let us send these irritating advertisements to Room 101!

We were speculating the other day, on how irritating it would be to see this view from our home, and how tempting it would be to help them fall over.  To our surprise the next day we noticed that the wind appeared to have done just that, for they lay flattened on the ground. Only the one tied on to the road sign remained in position.



We gave thanks to whatever, or whoever, had accomplished this dreadful deed. As the three houses whose signs had fallen were sold, we were quietly hopeful that they would be removed.

We were even more appreciative when we observed that they had been stacked up in a neat pile.





















Sadly our celebrations were premature, for the next day they had all been re-erected.



Maybe there will be a strong wind again tonight...

We walk home through the underpass where some well-meaning soul regularly feeds the rock doves that roost high up on a convenient ledge. Unfortunately, this means we have to walk through the inevitable detritus on our way home. The underpass is situated at the point where the highway widens for a junction, so the rain can never wash it clean. As it is a footpath it does not seem to get cleaned. Today there was a decapitated bird to add to the ambience.

"Oh no! He was such a lovely bird. He lived a good life." said the KHT mournfully.
"What? You do not know that bird!" I replied, somewhat startled.
"Well, that's what they say at funerals." replied the KHT.
What could I say? She was absolutely correct.  Then I thought, what has she been watching for her thoughts to take such a turn?

Then my thoughts turned to those irritating signs at the top of our road. What tribute could I pay to them?

Eulogy to an Estate Agents Board
Bravely they stood in all weathers,
Servant-hearted, they considered not themselves,
but kept faithful in their service to the end
Despite setbacks and unexpected low points, 
they soon recovered 
and continued the task to which they were appointed.
Until, duty done, they were called home.