Today I helped my Uncle pull down two chimney breasts and fill a skip to overflowing at a house he is renovating.
I’m knackered, covered in shite, the arse split out of my jeans and I have black snot.
Brilliant.
Hopefully I will get some sleep tonight!
Maybe it’s just me, but there is something satisfying about being tired through physical labour.
Although, doubtless, I will be a study in pain tomorrow.
The day started grimly, with me puking in the skip.
Had shellfish last night.
I LOVE it and G-d punishes me for eating treif.
It’s a trade off I can live with.
I was sweeping the floor at one point and found a huge discoloured patch on the floorboards.
I asked if there had been a problem with damp, which seemed the most obvious.
It was while I was kneeling down, feeling the boards, that my uncle informed me the previous owner had died in the room and had lain undiscovered for 8 or 9 weeks!
The stain was the ‘residue’ of him.
Amazingly, I retained what was left in my stomach while my Uncle was bent double with laughter.
The neighbours only noticed they hadn’t seen him for a bit, when the millions of bluebottles he had ‘nurtured’ were trying to get out of the windows.
I got my own back later in the day when I dislocated my knuckle and fixed it in front of him!
A wheelbarrow full of rubble can get spiteful when you haven’t properly discussed hand positions on the, “One, Two, Three, LIFT” bit.
My favourite quote of the day,
“I’m English, and as such I crave disappointment. That’s why I buy Kinder Surprise.”
Bill Bailey.
Best chat up move and line of the day,
You lick the end of your finger and touch the object of your affection, somewhere clothed, then say,
“Quick, let’s get you home and out of those wet things.”
My Uncle.
That kept me smiling all day!
The England match was so boring I nearly turned it over.
Sod’s Law would’ve meant 5 goals in 5 minutes and I would want to beat something.
So, I watched on.
As they say,
“The triumph of hope over experience……. Like a second marriage.”
5 comments:
No there is definitely something about being tired through physical labour. My job isn't labouring, but it is nonetheless quite physical, you have to shift quite heavy props and other stuff around, always on your feet in the teaching part of it and I have been walking there and back, and it is wonderful.
Your uncle is outrageous! That is the worst, most gob-smacking chat up line I have ever ever heard.
And I am with Schnee about physical labour...but today I did another 9 hour day and came home to my flowering blue hyacinths. It didn't take away the weariness but it did lift the heart.
Sassy.. You know you love him!
Physical labour is great but as suspected, I ache like a bastard today!
I love that man already! And that from an Irishman!
"Black snot" and "No Arse in the jeans"! Tell that avuncular gent to invest in a few charcoal masks, and then overalls for the protection of your heinie. You could be inhaling 1,000 yr old mites there, my dear, and there's no excuse for that.
Physical labor is so overrated and that from a former navvy now in therapy!
lentenstuffe.. Mr Boyle is a 'special' man indeed, after a few pints of the black stuff, he gets better!
There was one face mask and we took it in turns to wear it.
After 7 years working in a school, shifting rubble was a piece of piss. Being physically knackered is so much nicer than having your soul destroyed!
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