Manor House- a hive of activity.

Manor House - a hive of activity.

Here in Manor House, North London all is a hive of activity. It reminds you of one vast outdoor factory but without the panel beaters hammering away incessantly at pieces of metal, drills punching the same metal and things being sent mechanically along never ending conveyor belts. What we have here is something equally as industrial and just as practical. This is the future, the next generation and the next chapter of the lives of those who work and live in the thriving suburbs of London.

We are now half way through one of the most painstaking and astonishing housing projects of modern times. It's been a labour of love and work in progress for some time now and for some of us it does feel like a huge invasion of our privacy, a permanently noisy disruption of our everyday lives. Still, we've had plenty of time to get used to it so maybe we shouldn't really complain. This should be the time to just bite your lip, endure it all with perfect stoicism, welcoming it with open and hospitable arms and just appreciating the radical evolution of  Woodberry Down in London suburbia.

All around us here is a buzzing, shrill whistling, the almost constant hum of machinery, sawing, cutting, lifting, soaring, swinging and at times a deafening crescendo of drills and hammers competing against each other for being much louder than the rest. This almost feels like the re-invention of the Industrial Revolution for today's society rather than those difficult times when extremely industrious Victorians worked all day and deep into the early evening in what must have felt like the most impossibly spartan conditions.

Now though the environment is entirely different and the circumstances could hardly be more removed from those grim and back breaking days of hard labour and drudgery. The labourers and construction workers who now earn their living  wear yellow high viz jackets, very prominent hard hats and think nothing of walking around the building site next to us at least a hundred times a day.

Clearly, they're making considerable headway but it's hard to know why they have to keep wandering around like lost souls. Are they looking for Roman treasure and potentially valuable artefacts? We may never know. But up and down, around and around they go, pausing for a brief period of examination, scrutiny and assessment. They stop for a while, gazing fondly at the foundations then move off to another parcel of land where nothing exists but Portacabins, railings and whirling cement mixers.

 There are times when the whole area resembles Hampton Court maze, a strange and bewildering network of small, muddy ditches and trenches where a great deal of  note and significance has, to all outward appearances, been achieved but the end result is still years from completion. Slowly but surely everything seems to be taking shape but then it's hard to tell what stage our hod carriers and builders have got to.

Behind our garden is what can only be described as a darkly oppressive prison block, a mass of concrete, glass and steel that stares out balefully across our car park like some sinister armed bank robber with a balaclava over their head. Then there's the scaffolding, masses of white sheets draped limply over the structure, grey columns solidly holding everything together. We've been told and promised another set of luxurious flats and apartments but at the moment it does look like some grotesque afterthought.

There is a recurring theme of hard work, diligence and passionate commitment to the cause. Once all all of the bricks and mortar have been fitted into place, we may begin to see the first signs of roofs, living rooms, kitchens and bathrooms. The cranes are still swinging away quite happily and the diggers are still scooping up prodigious lumps of metal, wood and sand. This is turning into a military operation but thankfully without the guns and tanks of warfare.

Meanwhile back at the building site next to us the men in yellow continue to plough their lonely furrow and you get the impression that they could be running out of original routes to walk down. Besides, there can only be  so many ways you can get to a certain place without wondering why.  You wonder whether all of the builders may be playing off against each other for a major prize. It all looks extremely mystifying but at the same time a most compelling watch.

Then this labyrinthine game of Snakes and Ladders goes on and on, small huddles of architects, engineers, plasterers, electricians, arty creatives, all shouldering arms and sweating rivers for their country. The Berkley Partnerships hoardings with their soothing images of swans and geese are like some idyllic advertisement for all the good and most natural things in life.

You can't help but believe that eventually we can finally look at the whole of our part of North London and just admire the final splendour of it all. There is indeed a long way to go but when the last brick is ultimately dropped into its right and proper place some of us will let out a small whoop of delight. Phew at last! We were beginning to think they'd never finish. Meanwhile, the weekend is upon us and you all deserve a refreshing drink. It's time to take it easy and put your feet up.