Ill never understand women. Why is it that one minute they can be happily living in a perfectly nice, comfy house and the next minute they decide that the alcove next to the fireplace needs some shelving You ask tentatively Why do we need shelving, my sweetness and she replies Because shelves would look nice and I could put some lovely ornaments and flowers on them. Fifteen-Love to her. And where do we get these shelves, oh light of my life you ask innocently. From the shelf shop of course is her rejoinder. Thirty-Love. When should we get them, oh goddess of the dawn you enquire As soon as we can she replies. Forty-Love. Final question And, my little nest of vipers, whos going to put them up Ill bet you can guess the answer for match point
Such is my lot in life. So ten minutes later armed only with my wallet I set off for the shelf shop (Wilkinsons) and spent a modest amount of money on some very nice pine shelves and brackets. Upon getting them home it was pointed out to me that they were the wrong sort and I was once again dispatched to change them. Wilkinsons were happy to refund me (many thanks folks) and I then wandered elsewhere to buy some different ones. Once more back at home Mrs H cast a critical eye over my new, improved purchases and pronounced them also unfit for human consumption. Aarrgh!
After another understanding refund, at my insistence Mrs H accompanied me on my third expedition and we ended up at a local dealer having some pieces of wood cut to her exacting requirements. Brackets, screws and rawlplugs were purchased and we returned home so that she could have a much needed sit down whilst I drilled, hammered and banged my way through the afternoon.
After an hour, 2 broken drill bits and an inch of brick dust on the carpet I had drilled 36 carefully measured holes, inserted the rawlplugs and screwed the brackets to the wall. The next hour saw the shelves placed on the brackets and the screw holes marked. After drilling pilot holes in the shelves I then screwed them onto the brackets Ta-Da! Success!
Mrs H regarded my work with a critical eye – Theyre not straight I was told. Eh Yes they are! I exclaimed but she insisted Theyre lower on the right. I persisted No theyre not its an optical illusion caused by the ceiling being 1/2cm lower at the right end of the alcove and grabbing my trusty spirit level I placed it on a shelf to prove my point
The bloody things were NOT level, but indeed were lower on the right. As my face reddened, Mrs H walked away cackling with glee and I heard her pick up the phone in the kitchen to call all her friends to tell them.
Yet another hour of swearing, sweating and brick dust later half the holes had been re-drilled and one set of brackets moved. I screwed the shelves back on and checked them carefully with my spirit level. This time all looked good and I proudly summoned the current Mrs H to inspect my handiwork.
Hmmm They dont look as good up as I thought they would she complimented And look at all the mess youve made!… Then came the final comment that had me holding the drill to my temple:- We should get some in the other alcove to match – that would even it up and make it look nice.
Seeing my face, Mrs H took the drill from my hand and replaced it with a pint of beer. And then another. And one more. Plus an extra one for being a good boy. She then sat me on the sofa with a large scotch and told me how much she loved me.
Looks like tomorrow I am off to buy some more shelves!