Wednesday, August 31, 2005

Big Blogger

Good morning St Stson. How are you today?

But wearly thanks Big Blogger Big Bloggerson. Bit wearly.

Wearly?

Weary and its early. Liz rose at 5.45 a.m. to try and get Cargo Didcot open by tomorrow. So far it is a saga of underachievement and the emphasised lesson that when an electrician says, 'I will only be on the shop floor for 45 minutes tomorrow and won't get in the way' that translates as:

'I will be on the shop floor with my colleagues all day tomorrow, blocking the stairs while you try and get the furniture up there and causing four separate 20 minute power failures.'

That reminds me that I have now been waiting for eight months for the builder to come and fix my front wall:

January, 'I'll be there as soon as the weather picks up.'
March, 'It will be soon now.'
May,'I'll be there in a fortnight.'
July, 'I haven't forgotten you.'

This is the second builder. The first was fired after not coming for a year (maybe that was my mistake). This one is a member of my church so I don't want to nag him on a Sunday. (Big Stewie - this makes the speed of my efforts at learning Html positively gargantuan.)

Any builders in Leamington want a one day job?

You are talkative today?

That's the problem mate.

Problem?

Yeah. You are the only one who really listens to me and makes me say more about things or gives me a tough time in conversation. And I had to invent you to get this to happen.

Are you depressed?

I don't know what feeling depessed is like. I doubt it. I think I'm lonely; always am when Liz is opening a new store, plus my regular source of wise advice is in Kenya and a couple of other people have moved away recently.

You need a holiday?

I don't feel like that. I have spent all my life moving on from town to town. I am getting the first niggling feeling that I need to move on. I would rather move house than fix this one.

Fix?

No, not fix, it isn't exactly broken, but we've lived here thirteen years and even the rooms we've decorated twice look in need of a lick of paint.

You have a great house.

I know and I'm really grateful. It's just that sometimes moving scenery is a help in moving your life on.

You're a writer. Why don't you imagine the changes?

Visualise them?

Yeah. What would your new improved life look like?

Not very different. The same plus motivation and £50,000 to do the house up.

And what about you?

Me?

Do you need a lick of paint?

Good question.

And the answer?

See you later.

1 comment:

Stewart said...

I don't want to be a pedant (oh all right, I do - I'll admit it) but I don't think you can have gargantuan speeds (largeness not being a measure of speed last time I checked). I'll assume that this is one of these linguistic liberties that you writer-types are allowed to take.