So here I am, wasting another 8 hours of my life in the office on Friday. My wife is at home supervising the guys replacing our bathroom. She sends me a text:
“I need a cork”
After careful consideration and knowing that my humour might not be welcome today, I reply:
“Er, thank you for sharing but this is a little too much information. I know you can’t use the bathroom but resorting to using a cork is a bit desperate and possibly dangerous to your health. Can’t you just cross your legs until they go for lunch?”
I was expecting a response in capital letters, possibly even with some rude words and some exclamation marks for seasoning. I was not far off:
“Ha Ha. Daft bugger. A cork for the hole in the ceiling”
Momentary alarm and puzzlement on my part, then:
I sense some impatience in her next reply:
“The hole left by removing dead pipework installed by Mr Pedder. Remember him? The mad old bugger that owned the house before the current mad old bugger – and by that I mean YOU“
Ummm. I can’t deny the ‘mad old bugger’ label so I decide to defuse the situation by offering to search my lab for a cork or stopper of some variety. She replies:
“Ta. But I have an idea.”
This immediately caused slight panic but I let it go.
Anyway….later that night..
‘er indoors presents her idea, which I admit is a good one:
“The stopper in that bottle of Glenmorangie is about the right size. You could trim it to fit the hole then put filler over it“
Before I can come up with a response to this, she adds:
“The downside is that you would have to drink the rest of the bottle this weekend before it evaporates”.
It occurred to me, whilst whittling the bottle stopper to size, that I may have just been manipulated……