Alis Grave Nil

Thursday 10 November 2011

Confessions of a Plasterer and Other Musings

Today was big Mike the plasterer's last day.  He finished about 10.30 am and packed up all his big plaster tools into his big 4x4.  I will miss his great hulking frame and the sound of his high pitched voice as he sang along to the the latest Gaga melody, and his duets with Roy the builder. 

Isn't it funny, though, how perfect strangers, who come to plaster your house, tell you the most personal things?  Big Mike was talking to my husband, Roberto, as he was packing his stuff away.  He told Roberto that about 10 years ago his wife had an affair, which left him devastated.  He promised himself he would never forget it and that he would leave her when their son turned 16. 

He said, "My son turned 16 last week".

"So what are you going to do about it?" Roberto asked

"I don't really know because we've had 2 other younger kids since". 

DOH!

Wahaaaaaay!!  Bob the plumber has returned.  He is, at this moment in time, tied very tightly with nylon rope onto the boiler until he fixes it.  Then we will let him go and think about paying him.  I did tell him that I'd had the same washing out on the line every day this week and it still isn't dry and that I desperately needed my central heating.  He said, "Well, your heating wouldn't have made that much difference anyway".  Do I have "Stupid Person" tattooed on my forehead, Bob?  Anyway, he's not being untied until the central heating is working again. 


World Affairs According to Roy and Bob

Overheard conversation between Bob and Roy this afternoon:-

Roy (Builder): Well, Bob, looks like Greece is well and truly f****d.  They're getting a banker for a president.

Bob (Plumber): It was the effing Germans that f****d Greece's economy up.

Roy: Do you know that Angela Merkel Bob?

Bob: Not personally Roy, why do you ask?

Roy: Because Angela Merkel is an anagram for Rommel, Bob.

Bob: Wonder what our lass is cooking for tea tonight?



....And another thing.  Why, why, why do they all troop into my kitchen to wash their hands and then dry their hands on the dish towel? 

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