Monday, 13 June 2011

No running at the weekend

13/06/2011 - I sort of knew I was not going to get much in the way of runs in on the weekend just gone.  Still I had hoped to get a quick run in on Saturday Morning but no such luck. The reason for this pessimism was the delivery on Friday of 80 paving slabs and a pallet of cement.  I had a job to do.

Well initially I got someone in to quote for the work and my wife for her part told me that I was doing it so that was that.  Measured up, did my calculations and ordered the paving slabs and cement (not enough cement as it goes).  Anyway the lot arrives on Friday and first job is lugging the lot round to the rear garden.  After moving the bags of cement and 20 of the slabs I decided the other 60 could just stay where they were until needed.

Saturday morning, work clothes on and I get stuck in.  30 minutes later I'm having a coffee and letting the fact sink in that this was going to be a rather painful day.  This is pretty much how the day goes, 30 minutes of work, coffee, small cry, 30 minutes of work.  By around 6:30 pm I'm knackered and stop for the evening meal.  I wash and collapse in front of the telly.  Then my lovely wife in a show of contrition cracks open a lovely bottle of vintage Cava and it's off to the cinema room to watch Taken (damn good film too).  Next day, Sunday, it's much the same.  If there is a difference it's perhaps that the work rate has dropped and I'm sobbing more frequently.  By 3pm my wife says to pack in for the day.  I think she's grown weary of hearing a groan man cry.  So I tidy and clean up both the garden and myself.  So after two days of solid work I've managed to lay 30 slabs (see below).

30 slabs laid (you can't see the ones going back to the door)
Now it's Monday and I have to ask myself what are these sore infected lumps of flesh I see before me? Oh yes they're my fingers. Mind you they are not painful; well not when compared to the agony that is my back and neck. Both of which pale into insignificance when compared to the searing visceral compilation of pain that is my wrists and forearms. On the upside I saved the £20 it would have cost me to exploit a young eastern european chap to do it for me.

One small consolation is that the woman that made me do it now has to hear me moaning & groaning constantly until I've finished then I expect she'll get driven mad by the "tales" of my endeavors for years to come (remember the fence sweetie?). 

Also I've decided to get my own back on my lovely wife by posting the trials and tribulations of the patio laying over the next few weeks on my blog (starting tonight). If ever the social services decide to include the protection of husbands in their remit I'll have all they need for them to remove me to a safe location and care of a foster wife.

Oh yes and despite the pain I'm going to go for a run on the morning.  Sometimes hero is too small a word.

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