Friday, July 17, 2009

On tongue and groove

On tongue and groove

"Take me," she said.

I raise an eyebrow in the accepted fashion.

"Take me," she said, "to B&Q for some tongue and groove."

The eyebrow remained raised, and I piled her into the Renault Scenic of DOOM, my lead boot taking her to the orange corrugated B&Q warehouse in record time.

Not – it goes without saying – that we time our trips to B&Q and write the results in a handy notebook kept in the glove compartment for our regular weekly round-up of the household stats that gets displayed on a notice board I have erected in our front garden.

So: Eyebrow still cocked, scooting along on one of those flat-bed trolleys that don't go round corners, I took her into the planed timber aisle for a quantity of tongue and groove.

And the bastards threw us out into the car park and called the Police.

If the law weren't already distracted by a nearby outbreak of Bennies on the loose, who knows what might have happened.

It turned out that what she really wanted was a dozen packs of B&Q value brand timber cladding for the inside of our new shed summer house.

Why – I ask – didn't she tell me in the first place? Next time she wants a good quality six-inch screw, we've got to go all the way to Homebase.

And that's in bloody Dorchester.

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