I was woken by my mobile phone ringing.

I hate phone calls when I’m asleep and this one was from a very cheerful sweet young thing. Cheerful phone calls first thing are even worse. Anyways she wanted to know if I wanted my blinds fitted. Of course! I am sick and tired of erecting a temporary blind every night in Herself’s window and wedging it and propping it up with crutches. I asked when. She said in about an hour. Fuck! Brilliant.

So they arrived. Two blind men in a big white van. I thing they were the son and grandson of the old fart who measured us up last week. Now the room is cluttered at the best of times but they managed to squeeze in a couple of step ladders, two or three large tool boxes, boxes of fittings and seven blinds all wrapped up in miles of bubble-wrap. We had to do some furniture shifting and to say it was almost impossible to move around would be an understatement. So they set to work and I moved into Herself’s room.

They muttered and cursed and drilled. The cursing didn’t inspire confidence but they assured me all was grand. I went to boil the kettle for more tea.

Suddenly there was a loud crash and I looked over in time to see one of them [the grandson?] falling off the television chest and landing on the flat of his back on the floor. In the process, his ladder, the television, the landline phone and the Interweb router all went flying. This looked serious as Yer Man wasn’t moving. Suddenly he gave a resounding “fuck” and I knew all was well. He assured us that he was fine, just winded.

They have buggered off now. The blinds are all up and looking well. They all look great and work well.

I don’t know if I can say the same for the television.