I seem to be surrounded by the accumulated detritus of about four months here in my study. A great pile of processed but unfiled paper is to my left and a small pile of unprocessed and unfiled to my right. A thin layer of fine white dust lays over all.
For the first time since getting my attack of the poorlys I have the energy and the urge to clear it all up, and I’ve started on the important part, cadging a cleaning duster from Graham who, wisely, tends to leave my study alone against complaints of the “what have you done with my…” kind.
“What do you want it for?”
“Dusting.”
“Dusting what?”
“My desk, bookshelves, stuff. You know.”
“Good lord. You must be feeling better. Here, take two dusters, and come back for more if you need them.”
I doubt it’ll take more than two dusters but I’ve made a start, and it’ll get done. Tomorrow I’ll make a start on the filing.
This morning, on the way to Sainsbury’s for a weekly provisioning (aren’t we good, sticking to the weekly shopping trip?) we called in at Screwfix™ for mysterious glue-type products. I understand that they’re for fixing pine cladding to the ceilings in the hall, landing and stairs. Blokes who fix these things no longer use nails, it seems.
I was impressed with Screwfix on our first visit. It’s a setup rather like Argos, with catalogues on benches, pencils and order slips all ready and waiting, an ‘order’ desk and, right by it, a ‘collection’ desk. Graham wrote the numbers of the items he wanted and walked through the order and collection process, almost without stopping. Fast, smooth and friendly, and that’s where it departs from Argos.
Hey ho. I balanced myself on a bar stool right by the state-of-the-art coffee machine and surveyed the scene. The walls have picture posters of blokes smiling over their new tools and supplies. The shop was mildly busy with blokes buying new tools and supplies. There was a difference between the two classes of bloke, however, in that the blokes in the pictures were good-looking guys with stubble beards, gelled hair and sparkling teeth. In general, the blokes in the shop were scruffy old Welsh building tradesmen. The main exception was Graham, of course, who is neither scruffy nor old.
Mind you, if I needed a job doing and didn’t have a Graham to do it, I’d trust the scruffy old Welsh guy over the good looking blokes in the pictures any old day.
When we got outside I looked back at the store front and sighed.
“Wassamatter?”
“Another photo opportunity lost. Would have made an interesting snap, would you, coming out of Screwfix clutching your boxes.”
“We’ll be back.”
“Oh, yes. We’ll be back.”
