Journey through space to the Planet Fabulous, where the Ruler of the Universe will see you shortly.

Wednesday, January 14, 2004

Get Your Plumbing Sorted Again

I have the builders in at the moment, going some way to explain my foul mood and why my tits hurt like buggery*. You see, the fabulous wood-floored palace in which I reside belongs to a madwoman who, when I first moved in, was a successful city lawyer. The following week, she’d given it all up and taken to having anal sex on the lounge room sofa with her drug-dealing boyfriend while we were all at work**. This I can respect, but she then spent most of her time at home completing some of the building work herself, resulting in every pipe being blocked more times than she was on a weekday. So, as she’s left the country, out come the proper builders to make everything that’s pretty actually work. Two charming elderly Welshmen, conferring in low gutteral noises rather like drunken, red-nosed Boohbahs, that will occasionally turn to us and go “Right, boyo – that wall’s gotta come down!” I think it’s very funny. Probably because I’m not paying. And the sight of one’s upstairs bathroom on the front lawn is always good for a surreal titter.

One of these gentlemen just happens to be the madwoman’s father, a charming chap who seems unfazed by most things in this day and age. “I’ve heard about this internet thingie,” he says, when we point out a cable he shouldn’t be cutting lest the housemate Ians can’t get porn. “Apparently you can sell your kidney on there or somesuch,” he said, scratching his head before making himself a tea and going back to his world of u-bends that he actually understands.

Yet, last night, the oddest thing. “Now, Lee,” he said in his deep valleys voice, “You’re going to have to explain to me this whole gay thing sometime. I just don’t get it.”

Blink.

Blink. Blink.

And there was I thinking I’d gotten away with it again. Although it does explain why, when the Wife and I emerged from a little ‘afternoon lie down’, he looked me straight in the eye and said “Oh, boys – you finished, then?” Well, I mean. What do you say to that? “Yes, and a fine afternoon of bumsex it was too, my friend! Maybe you could cajole the good lady wife into trying it up the bonus tube this very weekend. It is heartily recommended, I say what!” Instead, I just mumbled and made a cup of tea, the last refuge of the emotionally-repressed British.

Isn’t it marvellous when people surprise you, though? Here’s someone who’s lived his whole life in a little town in Wales, and he’s more liberated, inquisitive and at ease with the world than most people I know half his age. So, last night, when he said, “About the sleeping arrangements. I thought-“ I held up my hand. “When we said that we needed our plumbing seen to, we meant in the bathroom.”

He laughed like the drain he was trying to fix. I do believe he’s my New Favourite Thing.




* Not that I’d know. I’ve never ever travelled full steam up the chocolate whizzway. No sir. Hmm-mm.
** Perhaps I could ask her, he added innocently.

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