Big bang theory

Our next door neighbours are having some building work done. Brilliant, just brilliant. They are knocking down their garage, which happens to be adjacent to my bedroom, and then rebuilding it, bascially because it is a shitheap. Thus, each morning for the past week I have woken to the familiar sounds of drilling, blocks falling and of course the dulcit tones of the builders themselves. This morning I could have sworn that they were camping out in my wardrobe, trying to drill their way out, an upheaval of noise, crashing and banging. If I sound a little bitter, I am. I don't like being woken up, not this early, not when I m having trouble sleeping as it is.
What makes me even more sceptical about these builders dates back to an incident last week. It was only the second day that the builders had been on site. In a botched attempt to knock down a wall separating our house from our neighbour's, the construction workers committed slightly more than a social faux-pas. The wall came down OK, but due to some grave miscalculation the wall crashed down, as if toppled by weapon of war, and with some force, crashed into the side of our house, most notably smashing through a conservatory window. I, the only one in the house at the time, was quite happy sat on my laptop, when I heard the crash. I dismissed immediate thoughts of an earthquake in Sunbury-On-Thames as ludicrous, there is no fault line in the borough of Spelthorne to my knowledge, and went to investigate the damage. The conservatory was covered in glass, one window, which is about four foot in height I might add, was totally smashed, the last shards of glass trying to wriggle free of the frame. The path outside was a mess of red brickwork and debris, I won't get carried away and say it was a bombsite, but it was certainly a terrible mess. 'What happened here then?', I asked a stocky lad, who was shovelling the debris into his wheelbarrow. 'Sorry' he said, with an Eastern European accent, Polish I thought. 'You have a nice window...well not anymore' he said with a smile. The cheeky little...I didn't know what to say really. I couldn't help but think he'd be brave to say as much to my mum when she returned to this mess, very brave. To be fair, and I do like to be fair, the glass in the house was quickly cleared, and the path was restored to being a path, rather than a collapsed wall. Indeed when my mum did come home, she was reasonably calm. I think she suspected more damage from the way I had clamoured at her to come on the phone over an hour earlier. Since then, a crack has been discovered, running right the way across the conservatory, a direct result of where the wall hit our house. An independent builder came to inspect the damage. His advice was just a jumble of words to me, phrases like 'two inch cavity', 'rendered' and 'breeze block', went straight over my head. But it doesn't seem as though the house is about to collapse. One piece of advice I took to heart, was to photograph the damage. Digital camera in hand, I set about my work, even making a small Tarrantino-esque feature on the crack in the wall, although I doubt it will be released to the viewing public just yet. The head-builder has been more than apologetic, offering to repair any damage caused and even offering to do any other work on the house that needs doing, free of charge. My room needs tidying, so I imagine that will be high on his priority list in the coming days!