Am I the only one left in awe while watching a tradesman work? I’m not very good with my hands at all. I suppose I can just about handle myself when it comes to the simple stuff but when I watch someone who is an expert in their field work I sort of half want to join up as an apprentice or go to trade school to learn what they know. Hard ware stores are my best, and I love looking at all the power tools and all the stuff that you can buy with it and for it. OK I very rarely buy it because I know my technical limitations and I know that I will probably never use the thing how it’s supposed to be used. And I might hurt myself or someone else.
Being in this industry I have seen my more than fair share of building work and renovations. I have also, obviously spoken with a whole lot of good with their hands people over their years and every time, even now, I still want to join up as an apprentice. I don’t know why. Growing up it never interested me, we used to look down on those who wanted to be a mechanic or a carpenter. Now, I would love to have that skill. Yes I’ve picked up a bit of skill from observing them but I would still love to just know which wire goes where, which pipe feeds what bit. How do they know this stuff? How do they just know what to do and in what order. Like IT people too. How do they just know what to do? Have you ever tried to fix your own computer…you need midget hands, the brain of Hawkins and the patience of Job.
I have been bought to write about this as in the past few days I have been watching the tradesmen building and finishing the pub. It is a bit different to SA obviously, the main reason being that there are no blackomatics. All the labour has to be done by the trademen too, the upside is that there is no language barrier and that bloody bastard "angazi" has finally been put to rest. It is refreshing to see stuff like cupboard doors fitting properly, pieces being created by carpenters, tools not being broken or lost, painters painting the thing and not everything round it too. It refreshing to see them turning up every day, early in fact most days and being considerate. Its nice not to hear ‘but I have a problem’.
I have a mate who’s a plumber. A very talented one indeed but also blessed with the ability to do just about everything with any tool and any material. I have another who is an air con mechanic with the same ability and just natural understanding about how things work. Gents you have my respect.
So here we live in a flat, albeit a very spacious one, above a pub in an English village. It seems a million miles away from where we were only a few weeks ago but in the spirit of adapting to a new home we have quite quickly worked out where to shop and where to go. And it’s pretty simple unless you happen to stray into the rabbit’s warren of the country lanes. About as wide as bicycle tracks these hedge concealed lanes run in all directions, occasionally falling over a hamlet of dwellings and maybe a small village. In the past you would have a map printed onto your clothes or tattooed on your arm just in case. During the war, the Brits took down the directional signs so that the Germans would get lost if they ever invaded. Well let me tell you. If they did invade they would still be fucking lost! Unless of course they had a Sat Nav (you would know it as a GPS). This incredible piece of equipment has probably saved me a gaggle of arguments with the missus and about a million quid in petrol. If you ever come this way and plan to hire a car, just trust me, bring it with! Tom Tom is my new best friend. Yeah ok (sh!) it’s my only friend at the moment, and at least she has a nice voice.
Until tomorrow.
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