Jabba

Now I've gorn an' dunnit.

I said I'd build a new gate, didn't I?

Last night the neighbour who sold me the wood (for an excellent price, cheers Matt!) brought around his holy of holies, his bits bowl. Not a box. Not a jar. A great big chuff-off washing up Alladins cave of a bowl.

Perhaps I should explain. I sure there are many reasons why some people are into diy (do it yourself). I, and my mate Matt, like to dabble because (a) It's cheaper than paying someone else. (b) It's quite gratifying to see a job well done. Of course it's well done. I've done it, see? Oh, and (c) There's nothing like waving around some devilishly noisy Big Boys Toys and perhaps a chisel or hammer or three to guarantee a bit of 'me time'.

In other words, one is saying to the better half "This is my play pen, and you're not coming in". So there. "Go and do ermm... whatever women do". It's understood. Isn't it? No. Not around here it isn't - more on that in a min.

Yon bog-off bowl. Now then. Brackets. Screws. Nails in various states of disorder. Nuts. Bolts. That bit of whatever it is left over from that flat-pack furniture you conquered five years ago. Fuses. You just can't go binning it. It costs money that does.

You have to hide it. It, being, a rather large jar. That catering sized Nescafé tin('s' - ahum.) If you're really posh, a library of neatly sorted Tupperware containers. (I don't agree with those. It's not natural)

If you don't hide it, the tidy demon strikes while your watching Wales v England Rugby. It's a Man Thing. It's ones Ark of the Covenant. Anyone touching it should be dispatched forthwith. I'm sure you've been there. Just as you're shouting at the TV "G'won Y' (eh?, what?, yes dear?) b*****d, Sorry, what was that sweetie?" "Nothing pumpkin" - and bang - you've sold your soul.....

But Matt has a five gallon bowl, for crying out loud. For a chap to offer another chap his Ark, and even say "Go on, take what you need" is unthinkable. But he did. Once I regained conciousness, having being wafted with what looked suspiciously like a well worn sanding disk, 3 grade, 1985, I knew I had a friend.

I think I'm in love. With the bowl.

~~~~

I've been fortunate to be reminded why The Bear is know as The Bear. Not only because she looks like Paddington (I sleep with Paddington? Oh my....) down to the hat. (She doesn't sleep in the hat. Usually... ah ah - behave.).

I said.

I'd build.

A Gate.

SoWe'reHavingANewGate. Please save me. Imagine Thomas The Tank Engine. Got that? Good. Now imagine a Bear faced bulldozer. I said I'd build a gate, and by 'eck, it appears I WILL build a bloomin' gate. Apparently.

I'm sat there - it's not like I'm going to run away. And I've now being given a strict timetable. When, how....

May I let you into a little secret? I stared intently thinking:-

"The elephant is a graceful bird, it flits from bough to bough. It lays it's eggs in a rhubarb tree, and whistles like a cow"

I'm now off to sit in Jabba, my hut, and play with my screws.

It's a Man Thing.

Shhhhhh...... :)