A couple of days ago I wrote about my tics’ reaction to the lettings board that had appeared outside my bedroom window.

Today some other arrivals caught their attention, but this time they greeted them as old friends.

“Welcome back scaffold poles, I thought you’d eloped with the bin.”
“Scaffold tower, are you searching for some autumn sunshine?”
“Scaffold poles, how I’ve missed your metallic stare.”

While for me the work on the roof will probably be stressful, my tics seem thrilled to have some more obscure objects to talk to.