(Or, A Reluctant Father’s Guide to Child-Raising in a Post-Apocalyptic World. Explanation.)
The Fence gave me peace of mind.
The problem was thus: Sam and I occupied the middle of five townhouses. They sat on a block with two houses, one at either end. All seven properties backed onto a cobbled alley. And the Fence circled them all. All it took was over two weeks worth of driving, hauling, construction, swearing, tears (both mine and Sam’s), and occasional blood letting and squashed fingers.
I had discovered in my exploring several building sites with temporary fencing. These were square panels, made of welded mesh. A single panel I could about drag by myself. However…
Remember how I said to take the time and multiply it by five? When there is a child to take care of, large infrastructure projects take time.
I manages to scavenge enough fencing panels from three building sites in the area. The furthest was three blocks away, and that one alone took three days to drag the panels the distance. Luckily, I had the choice of several vehicles and a couple of relatively clear streets. Sam sat in my lap pretending to steer we made a terrible clatter in the neighbourhood, dragging panels over bitumen.
Sixteen days later, and I bolted the last panel into place. The Fence stood a good two metres away from the houses, encircling them from the alley out back to the streets out front.
I knew it would never withstand a direct assault, and we were to one day find out. But the sight of it gave me peace of mind.