I mention to Thelma that I've just nipped down to Epiphany.
"It's a right mess..."
"It's the tidiest I've ever seen it," I reply.
For once I'm not taking the piss. OK, it's a building site. But it isn't a building site with a disintegrated floor and a threadbare carpet (imagine putting a ropy bit of thin hessian matting on a sand dune and you'd have it exactly right), nor a load of derelict steel and mahongany-style-deal-offcuts shelving leaning at 5° towards the sunlight.