PAVED WITH GOOD INTENTIONS

From the hill you could see for miles on a clear day. This evening though you could barely make out Mumbles in the distance and most of the sea was obscured by a thick fog. The rain would soon be shifting that thought Luke as he walked towards Mount Pleasant from the renowned Townhill area of Wales ' second city. It seemed distinctly unpleasant on this greyest of Swansea Mondays. He could certainly see why it had made the city's famous son, Dylan Thomas so melancholly. Luke hated working in the rain but managed to keep upbeat. At least he'd brought an umbrella today. He held it aloft and journeyed, protected from the worst of it by the huge canopy to the first house. He walked confidently down the path. A confidence he didn't always feel but had long since learned to fake. You couldn't be nervous in this game. He tried to guage the response he was likely to get in the few steps down the path. Were there signs of life? Could he smell cooking? ,Hear music or a television programme? ,a baby crying or even an argument. People right in the middle of watching their favourite programme or in the middle of a row rarely greeted him with open arms. He didn't look to decide wether to disturb these good people or not. He would knock anyway. He would look to see how best to pitch his openening line. He'd notice from a glance through their lounge window whilst walking nonchalantly up their path if replacement windows were throughout the house or, as was often the case, merely on the front. The tell tale roof bars of a conservatory could often be seen through the window or from the path and fascias, soffits bargeboards and cladding were easily visible. He took all this in not to decide wether to knock on the door. He was definitely going to do that. He did it automatically. Like a policeman can't help but notice suspicious things, Luke couldn't help but notice everything there was to notice about a house and its potential for home improvements ( particularly those of the uPVC variety but he also couldn't help but notice kitchens from when he used to sell them ). If, as he walked down the path, he could hear Coronation Street from the lounge window, cooking noise and smell from the kitchen whilst a row over a crying baby elicited to the street from an immaculate replacement uPVC window that matched the entire house and the elegant, Victorian conservatory and cladding products...He'd still knock. Just on the off chance that a small window, hidden from view needed replacing and that there was someone not involved in the watching of Coronation Street, cooking, rowing or childcare that would be grateful to speak to him. This approach lead to a lot of people being less than diplomatic to say the least ( downright aggressive and even violent at worst ). He couldn't wait to see what awaited him behind this door.