This is Part three of my quest to find a Handy Man following my advert placed in the newsagent's window.
Local Widow seeks Handy Man, must be fit
Apply in person to Dollytub Cottage
If you have read my two previous posts you will know by now that this has not been an easy task.
Surely there must be someone competent out there to clear my back passage and trim my bush here and there as required.
So far my search has not been fruitful, not to mention dis-heartening!
Yesterday there was a knock at the door, I peeped round my net curtain, as yer do, and saw a young man standing there.
He must have only been about 25, and a strapping example of one of Lincoln's Finest. I'd seen him a few times around the neighbourhood, most notably playing "sucky faces" with the young lasses outside the off-licence.
Well, thought I. This looks promising.
How wrong can a girl be?
"Hello missus," he beamed.
"Have you come about the card in the newsagents?" I asked.
Obviously not much of a talker, or maybe the girls outside the "Offy" have worn out his lips.
"Have you done anything like this before?" I enquired
(Are you getting as bored as me with this conversation?)
"Well, you certainly look fit for the job. Come in and we'll have a little chat."
"Right" he said as he came across the threshold. He didn't even bother with the "missus" this time.
I took him out to the back garden. I pointed up to the guttering,
"D'yer see up there, there some moss growing up there, so the rain is running down the wall?"
He had a quizzical look on his face,
I continued, "So the gutter needs clearing."
"Oh yeah, yeah," the penny's dropped he's nodding vigorously.
"Would you be able to do it?" I asked him.
He looked round behind him, then realised I was talking to him.
"What, missus - up there?"
"Yes, Ducky." I'm nodding now, thinking he's at last cottoned on.
He scratched his head "Up a ladder?"
"Well, yes. It's the only way."
"Aw sorry, missus. I don't fink I can do ladders. I gets dizzy, see?" he says.
(Quite a long sentence that time!)
"Never mind. I can probably ask the Window Cleaner to do that job."
(I don't know why I said that, the Window Cleaner doesn't do ladders either!)
Never mind, I thought. I'll show him my back passage.
Now, I don't know about you, but when I'm doing a bit of DIY, I'm a bit of a messy cow, err creature.
I'm not very good at clearing up the trail of devastation that I leave in my wake.
So I do tend to pile things up in my back passage.
"What needs doing here then?" he asked me.
Obviously he's a bit lacking in initiative. Never mind, I thought. I'll be here - I can supervise.
"All those tins of paint will need taking round to the front of the house and put in the rubbish skip. It's coming Tuesday."
He looked at me, apologetically, "I can't do paint. It's me dermatitis, see?"
"Oh well, never mind. I'll take them round myself. You can take that pile of rubble there, I've got a wheelbarrow."
As soon as the words left my mouth, the look on his face said it all.
"Don't you do wheelbarrows either?" I asked.
"Oh yeah, I do wheelbarrows." he answered.
Thank God, we're finally getting somewhere. I almost jumped up and down with delight.
(I really must get out more!)
My joy was short lived, however. He continued...............
"It's the rubble I won't be able to manage. I've got a bad back."
Good grief, this young chap's got more problems than I've got!
Maybe he can manage the gardening.
I don't know why I kept making excuses for him, and trying to find something he could do.
I decided to take him round to the front garden and show him my bush.
"Can you trim my bush?" I asked him.
"Sorry, missus. Plant allergy, hay fever and everyfink."
"So, you won't be able to mow the lawns either?" I don't know why I asked.
He shook his head.
I told him as gently as possible.......
"Well, I'm sorry, I really am, Ducky. I don't think you'll be any good to me."
He looked crestfallen.
"I don't think you're much of a Handy Man" I said.
"No?" he said.
"What makes you think you're handy?" I asked.
I only live round the corner."
I suppose you don't get much handier than that.
(Oh the old ones are the best!)
I think I'll go round to the newsagent's tomorrow and ask Legover Linda to take that card out of the window.