I discovered that this afternoon the work-folk had moved their destruction locus to the front of the fire-station. I was lucky in that the machine operator was taking a break, and I passed by enjoying blissful silence. I never quite understood the function of this little porch that was either too hot or too cold to sit on. And the wee step, in today’s world, might be considered dangerous and a boundary to access (not axis—doncha love homonyms). Looks like it’ll be gone…very soon.