There were two reasons for my absence over the past day and a half. The first was a severe dose of 'the domestics' - no, no, not a huge row with the 'Memsahib', I learnt the folly of that on about the third day of my honeymoon, now I just do as I'm told! No, the problem was that our fridge/freezer went on the blink. The double problem was that it is built into the 'fancy-dancy' kitchen units that, so the estate agent told me at the time, made this such a very desirable residence - yeeeeees, quite!
Anyway, all this entailed an evacuation of the contents of the broken unit which had to be squeezed into the spare fridge/freezer in the garage which, needless to say, was almost full. A 'discussion' on, er, the merits, shall we say, of storing all this crap most of which came off the Ark and what precisely the chances were of a nuclear holocaust requiring us to have enough rations for five years came to an abrupt halt when I was told to shut up and just get on with it! That done, I then contemplated the problem of removing the old 'box' from the afore-mentioned 'fancy-dancy' kitchen units. Not the least of the problems was that the rather exquisite kitchen designer had insisted that the fridge/freezer, despite having perfectly good doors of its own, should have extra doors attached to its front that matched the woodwork in the kitchen. What passes for my brain began to ache at the complexities of exchanging these two mammoth boxes without actually destroying the kitchen and my marriage!
And lo, there then came forth my saviour - Kevin! He is mildly eccentric for a 'Zummerzet' man in that he hardly talks. However, he is the local expert on all sorts of kitchen gadgetry. He treated my hesitant offers of help with barely concealed contempt - shrewd fella'! - and within minutes (or so it seemed) the old box was out and wheeled away down to his van and then in came the new. I forgot to tell you that to add to what I considered to be insurmountable difficulties, the monstrous-sized fridge-freezer was raised up on a plinth! Had I attempted to remove the old one my death certificate would have read "Crushed by a fridge"! Anyway, 'Kevin Superman' simply wheeled in the new one and by sleight of hand - or something - hey presto, it was in!
Speaking as a man who uses a hammer to drive in screws, I cannot begin to express my absolute admiration for practical men like Kevin who, in my pantheon of heroes, is up there alongside open-heart surgeons, atomic physicists and that weird swot in a wheelchair who speaks funny! It is an undoubted fact that the entire world works only by dint of the likes of Kevin!
You never said a truer word, Duffy! Kev's a real 'Son of Martha,' and I know a few like him, I'm glad to say.
Posted by: Oswald Thake | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 11:03
Oh, alright, then, Oswald, I'll own up and admit that I had to look up "sons of Martha'. Obviously, all those years ago, I failed to pay sufficient attention during biblical studies so I have given myself 50 lines!
Posted by: David Duff | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 12:09
David, I trust all that stored food managed to safely find its way back to the new one? It is men like "Kevin" who maintain the civilized world. The sort that can use a Swiss army knife and a box of cotton swabs to build a shopping mall.
Posted by: Whitewall | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 13:37
I don't believe you Duffers!
You were secretly watching the test match and have since been in mourning.
Posted by: Cuffleyburgers | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 13:41
Oh, you good folk along the lower coast near Selsey, there are reportedly a few dozen sharks swimming around in shallow water off the beach according to the WSJ. Careful.
Posted by: Whitewall | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 15:32
There's even more of 'em up in Westminster!
Posted by: David Duff | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 16:32
In spite of being afflicted with a severe case of "passion fingers", I am usually game to have a go at most things, some of which almost turn out right. My late father and I were known as Bodger & Son... by my mother.
(Passion fingers describes someone who f^cks everything he touches.)
Posted by: Timbo | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 16:49
Timbo..sort of like me and anything to do with plumbing. The job starts small and then oops...job gets a little bigger. I persist. The job gets difficult and bigger. My wife calls a plumber. I explain that I could have actually fixed the problem, but in truth--I am much too handsome to bother with plumbing.
Posted by: Whitewall | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 16:58
I could do with Kevin for a couple of weeks.
Send him out, if you please.
Posted by: Andra | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 18:44
Oh, Whiters, the Swiss army knife, I think the first thing I did was cut my finger!
Not so, Cuffers, thank God I missed the entire miserable funeral!
Timbo, sorry to break the news but I think we may be related!
Quite right, Whiters and it ruins one's best suit!
Not bloody likely, Ma'am, he's mine, all mine!
Posted by: David Duff | Wednesday, 22 July 2015 at 19:14
Whitewall. Top Tips. 1. Know where the water stop cock is and practice which way to turn it then show the wife how to do it.
2. Make sure the wife has regular practice and keep the fridge well stocked with beer.
All will be well.
Posted by: jimmy glesga | Thursday, 23 July 2015 at 01:13
Jimmy, good advice!
Posted by: Whitewall | Thursday, 23 July 2015 at 03:05