The electricians called yesterday.
I had better explain [briefly].
Herself is an avid fan of those programmes on television that show houses being done up and given “Makeovers” [God, how I hate that word – it’s meaningless and ubiquitous]. She keeps saying that “we must get something like that” or “that would look lovely here”. So she started on about the kitchen. After several belts of the frying pan, I relented, and said she could have her kitchen “makeover”. This involves a new ceiling and a new floor. And the new ceiling involves concealed lighting. Hence the electricians.
There were two of them – the Gaffer and his Jimmy.
I asked if they wanted the power off, and they looked insulted. They gave me that look as if to say “we are professional electricians. We are used to working on live wires. Only pansies switch the power off”.
So I left them to it.
The Jimmy shinned up onto the kitchen sink and began messing with the existing fluorescent tube. There was a very pretty blue flash, and the Jimmy ended up on the flat of his back on the floor.
The Gaffer and I stood looking at the Jimmy as he lay there.
“You’d better give him the kiss of life” says he.
“No f*cking way,” says I, “I don’t know where he’s been, and I’ve never kissed a man in my life”.
“It was your electricity”
“He’s your Jimmy”
We argued the toss, and eventually, the Gaffer decided he’d better do something. But in the meantime, the Jimmy had vanished. He returned shortly to say that he had thrown the master switch and all the power was off.
“Are yiz all right?” says the Gaffer.
“Grand,” says the Jimmy “it woke me up nicely.”
So I left them to it and went back to my work. But the computer of course was dead. And all my work was gone. Bugger!
They’ve gone now, and the ceiling is a spider’s web of cables hanging all over the place. There are a couple of naked bulbs hanging down so I keep hitting my head off them. The place is a mess until the carpenters can come to fit the ceiling.
I’m going to have to get rid of that damned television.