On Seeing Builders' Pants.

I am getting a little bit fed up with seeing builders' pants.  The other day when Big Mike, the plasterer, and his son Mini-Big-Mike were here, Mini-Big-Mike's job was to mix up the plaster in the back garden which is directly outside my kitchen window.  He had his back to me and was bending over the plaster bucket with his huge electric whisk and I couldn't help but notice that half his pants were showing - brightly coloured ones; red, blue and yellow.  God, what a sight!  I tried not to look again for the next few days but it was a sight to behold, this huge backside of an 18 year old giant...and the pants were always the same.  Three days running, same pants.  I tried to persuade myself that he had three pairs the same, and they were clean on each day, but a little voice in my head said "You're having a larf, aren't you.  He probably wears the same pair  inside out and back to front on alternate days"    Am foreseeing another sleepless night!

We think that Roy the builder has an invisible friend.  I heard him on the roof today. At first he was singing "That's why the Lady is a Tramp", Gaga-style and the I heard him talking.  The conversation went like this:-

"How would you do it then?"

"No, that's not right"
"Okay, I'll do it like that"

"Where's the hammer?"

A few sweary words, then "Oh, I see what you mean now".  

I could have sworn he was having a conversation with someone but when I looked out,  Roy was completely alone on the rooftop. 

Things are looking up.  It's the electricians' last day today.  They are brothers.  One is called Jimmy, and we call the other one Scooby (because he talks just like Scooby Doo and nobody can understand him).  Anyway, they were working late to get the work finished and I asked them if they fancied a bacon sandwich.  "That would be very nice", Said Jimmy.  "Woooby wooooby dooooo!", Said Scooby.  After they had their Scooby snack, Scooby said to me "That was the nicest bacon sandwich I have ever had" (in Scooby Doo language, of course).  That was nice of him, wasn't it?

Big clean up tonight, ready for the carpets arriving tomorrow. 

Is it wine o'clock yet?

Roy the Builder Shakes his Pants

Today in the Printemps' household, we are past ourselves (quaint old Yorkshire saying that means we are at the end of our tethers, and then some!).  Roberto and I are exhausted with painting and decorating all weekend, and just having other people in your house constantly from  7.30 am every morning is exhausting in itself.

Today, Roy the builder went too far.  I came upstairs for the umpteenth time, having to squeeze past Big Mike, the plasterer and his son, Mini Big Mike (huge!) , who, between them, took up the entire length and breadth of our hallway,   On entering our bedroom where Roy was filling in a gap where an old window had been, I found him in the room with Roberto, my husband, and he was zipping up his jeans.   I gasped in horror and said "What the fluff are you doing, Roy?"  He replied, "I'm just shaking the rubble out of me undercrackers, Mrs P.  Ooh, you've made some more tea."  I wanted to cry.  It was just all too much. 

We called in Bob the plumber because some of his pipes had a few leaks here and there.  "It's nothing to worry about, it will all seal itself up", he said.  "Liar, liar, pants on fire", I thought.  He told us that when he was doing up his house with his girlfriend, Babs, they didn't have any hot water for two months.  Call yerself a plumber, Bob?  I told him that if I was Babs, I would have kicked his sorry ass. 

I met a retired lady I know from our village.  She told me that when she had an extension built years ago, she happened to come home one day unexpectedly and found all 13 builders and workmen playing cricket in her back garden.  Oh, the joys of building work. Doncha just love it?  Well, doncha?

I can't get the image of Roy and his undercrackers out of my head.  Think I need to lie down now.

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? 

Musings on a House Extension chez Printemps

The Printemps household has builders in. I know..I know, worse things happen to people every day, but our house is now in total turmoil. However, I am just taking one day at a time and trying to stay calm (while silently screaming inside).

Each morning as I am crawling out of bed and staggering half asleep to the shower, the builder, Roy, arrives at around 7.30am. At 7.31am, the radio is blasting at peak volume and Roy is off. At 7.35am, the drilling, hammering, banging, F’ing and Blinding begins...and that’s just Roy. We have a plumber, two sparks and a plasterer, though, I must admit, not all at the same time usually.

The plumber, Bob, was summoned the other day to move our boiler, amongst other things. Bob has just turned 60 but still thinks he is a 35 year old stud. Unfortunately for us, Bob has the attention span of a goldfish and can’t stick at the job for very long. He announced after removing our boiler on Monday that he would be back on Thursday because he needed more parts and pipes. "Parts and pipes, my a**e", I said. We have now had several cold and damp November nights without central heating. I want to kill Bob.

Our plasterer, Mike, arrived yesterday. Mike is a big bloke, about 6 feet tall or more and built like a rugby player. During their tea break, I brought the biscuit box in and offered him one. He told me he didn’t eat biscuits because he is diabetic. Anyway, when it came to lunchtime, I asked him if he was having a break with the others and he said no because he wanted to keep going and get the job finished. "Don’t you even stop for a sandwich Mike?", I asked. He said, "No, I just keep going". This concerned me somewhat because of what Mike told me before about being diabetic. Don’t diabetics have to eat regularly to keep blood sugar levels up? I was a little bit worried that this big bloke who is built like a brick outhouse would collapse in my house before he finished the plastering job, so I made him a ham sandwich just to be on the safe side.

Everyone knows that British builders and tradesmen drink a lot of tea. Well, we nearly had a walk out one day when Bob the plumber was here for longer than his usual goldfish attention span. He came to me and said "I need to switch off the water today". I said "Bob, no water, no tea. Simples". I looked behind him and there were suddenly three sets of meerkat eyes in my vision, staring at me in horror. "Okay then", said Bob, I’ll be back on Tuesday". Look of relief on meerkat eyes. Catastrophe averted - phew!