This must be July, it’s raining again.
I sit here in my office eyrie, watching the builders hauling a steel girder onto our dumper truck. Thereby hangs a tale.
My husband, the ex-builder, had an unrequited youthful yearning to own a hardware store. Now that he is a grown up I have a theory that this youthful obsession has metamorphosised itself into an unhealthy obsession with acquiring expensive construction accoutrements and needless girders.
This obsession became a full blown addiction when he built our offices. He NEEDED a JCB. The market, he assured me, was good for re-selling at a profit. OK, I went along with that. Then he NEEDED a dumper truck. The market, he assured me, was good for re-selling at a profit. OK, I went along with that too. He NEEDED construction strength (for that read multiple purchases for shit loads of money) cement mixers, sanders, electric saws, towers, theodolites, levels, trowels, barrows, buckets, shovels, etc. etc. Get the drift?
So what happened? The JCB and dumper are too handy to sell and the expensive tools have mainly been stolen by various drug-fuelled yobs prowling around in the middle of the night.
The girder is a wild purchase years ago. We NEEDED a girder. One day it would come in handy. Well today, strangely enough, both the dumper truck and the girder came in handy, so his forward planning has been vindicated again.
Am I destined never to win and argument? Piss him, I’m off to watch Wimbledon being rain off again. This, after all, July!
Too... much... writing... - ... and none of it on here, it seems. So just to keep things moving, here's a brief excerpt from an ongoing conversation with my younger son. Boy #2 is, a...
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