Nelly Gets Nasty

Yesterday morning I threw a strop and it started like this.

Do you know we’ll soon be living in this house for a year?

Really?

Yes. A year. In October. And the bloody place is still not finished. Look at the state of that floor. When is that useless bastard Nameless coming back to finish it? Two months we’ve been ringing him. He’s nothing but a [insert very bad word]. If you had laid a floor and that happened would you not at least have come round to check it out?

Aye. I suppose I would.

Well typical useless get can’t even be bothered to do that. You can just knock a hundred quid, at least, off his bill for all our bother and expense.

He still hasn’t billed us for any of the work he’s done so far.

Huh. Typical lazy, useless get can’t even do that!

And so it went on and on taking in, along the way, the tramping in of muck, dogs drooling on the cushions, a pan not washed since Tuesday evening and a petulant refusal to finish cooking the pancakes I’d started on.

Naturally enough Bert lost his head at it all, told me he was fed up listening to my ranting and complaining, advised me to shut the [insert moderately bad word] up and made a damn good try at storming off in his van.

But I got to him before he got off the yard. Begged him to reconsider his actions and contritely promised to finish cooking the pancakes.

And the outcome was that Bert finished the floor himself. It took him all day. All that was required of me was to help him to puzzle out which boards went back where, make lots of tea, admire his skill and intelligence, and cook him a lovely meal with dessert to follow.

Which is why I’d no time to post any blog entries yesterday.