"I couldn't get any Polyfilla. So I got this stuff instead"
Adrian looked inside the plastic tub with dread. A grey spongy porridge-like mixture stared back at him. His worst nightmare.
He did what he felt he had to do.
=======================oOo========================
The Judge was very understanding. He said Adrian had been unduly provoked and no man should have to endure that. He directed the jury accordingly. And so Adrian walked away free, justified by the grey sludge known as ready-made plaster.
Time passed, and now Adrian 's decorating his new house. It's been a few years, but he finds the old knacks came straight back and he's as good at it now as he was then. Only the new wife that he acquired a couple of months ago, when they bought the house and decided to get married too, keep popping her head in to see what he's up to. And nagging him to be faster, or neater or something. Nag, nag, nag. She picks over the paintwork to find drips and tells him over and over how to do the job. Yet, when he offers her the chance to have a go, she says "Oh no, love, you're good at it and I'm useless. You do it". Then proceeds to find a way to tell him how to sand, paint, paper and so on.
The thing he's working on at the moment is filling; one of her pet topics "oooh, not like that. Are you sure?" His head rings with her nasal whine. Adrian reaches for the Polyfilla, but it is just about all gone. He hears her voice through the door.
"I'm just off down the shops love, anything you need?" He stares at the door, brow furrowed.
"Yes please my love. I need some new filler."
"What kind? Polyfilla?"
"No, not this time. Get me some of that ready made plaster will you? You know, the grey stuff."
"Righto. See you in a bit."
The front door bangs.
8 comments:
happy times chez beep then?
poor beep.
I bought a fridge magnet last week. It shows three old horses, looking over a wall.
It's entitled 'Nag, nag, nag.'
I bought it to remind me of the good old days (the ones before I became single again).
it's not meant as literal!
I'll do you a deal Beep - you come and sand, fill and paint in my house to your heart's content and I promise, I PROMISE not to tell you how to do it and Sticksy can go do your house. He'll do an excellent job and I assure you, there will be not one drip mark or any possible reason for anyone to give him advice on how to do it because it will be perfection extraordinaire. Only problem is, it'll take him 2 years to do one wall.
I'm sure you're doing it much better than I make shelves.
Can I just say: I've never been before a judge, I don't have a new wife and, er, this is neither literal nor literary.
However, I shall be keeping an eye out for Dave's fridge magnet.
None of this is true. We'll some of it may have its orogins in certain truth: I do hate the grey porridge filler, but the rest is imaginary. Except the decorating. I was doing that at the time I MADE UP the story.
Nonetheless, I'd still like to do a deal, I'm getting desperate Beep ...
Oh but Thursday, I'd leave drips EVERYWHERE. It's my age you know....
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