Sanctuary.
I am at work.
Having little better to do, I call one of my clients upon the tele-phone.
The client is not a happy man. He has a hardened artery in his leg and has had to suffer much surgery, and even more time off work. He is self-employed. He is not content.
Me: Hi George. [His name is not George.]
George: [Remorsefully] Oh. Hi Tired.
Me: Going mad much?
George: The holidays are the worst. I mean. If I don’t work for a couple of weeks I go a bit mad anyway.
Me: With you. Me too.
George: Aye. But. The holidays. The kids are ALWAYS around. I think I’m losing it. It’s been two months now. I can’t walk far.
Me: Look. They’re your children. Enjoy the time. I know it’s tough when you don’t really think you can do anything and there’s not much money about, but take the time. Relish this time with-
George: You don’t understand.
Me: What?
George: My wife’s a nanny.
Me: Oh dear God.
George: Yes.
Me: She doesn’t-
George: Yes.
Me: How many?
George: Eight. Including my two. In the house. All the time. All summer. All day.
Me: Christ.
George: I know.
Me: I love children. If they’re actually MINE.
George: Yeah. The same.
Me: God. You know what you need? A shed.
George: Done.
Me: What?
George: Had a couple of mates build one at the end of the garden last week. I’m talking to you from there now.
Me: You've actually had one purpose-built? Superb. All you need now is one of those little fridges that you can fit six cans of lager into and you’re sorted. [I assumed I was joking at this point.]
George: Done.
Me: What?
George: I got satellite television now.
Me: In the house?
George: Naw. Got the dish put on the side of The Shed this week. Sky Sports. Plasma screen.
Me: You’re joking?
Silence.
George: [Puzzled] No.
More silence.
I’m not a big sports fan. But this sounds too good to be true.
Me: Can I come round?
George: No.
Having little better to do, I call one of my clients upon the tele-phone.
The client is not a happy man. He has a hardened artery in his leg and has had to suffer much surgery, and even more time off work. He is self-employed. He is not content.
Me: Hi George. [His name is not George.]
George: [Remorsefully] Oh. Hi Tired.
Me: Going mad much?
George: The holidays are the worst. I mean. If I don’t work for a couple of weeks I go a bit mad anyway.
Me: With you. Me too.
George: Aye. But. The holidays. The kids are ALWAYS around. I think I’m losing it. It’s been two months now. I can’t walk far.
Me: Look. They’re your children. Enjoy the time. I know it’s tough when you don’t really think you can do anything and there’s not much money about, but take the time. Relish this time with-
George: You don’t understand.
Me: What?
George: My wife’s a nanny.
Me: Oh dear God.
George: Yes.
Me: She doesn’t-
George: Yes.
Me: How many?
George: Eight. Including my two. In the house. All the time. All summer. All day.
Me: Christ.
George: I know.
Me: I love children. If they’re actually MINE.
George: Yeah. The same.
Me: God. You know what you need? A shed.
George: Done.
Me: What?
George: Had a couple of mates build one at the end of the garden last week. I’m talking to you from there now.
Me: You've actually had one purpose-built? Superb. All you need now is one of those little fridges that you can fit six cans of lager into and you’re sorted. [I assumed I was joking at this point.]
George: Done.
Me: What?
George: I got satellite television now.
Me: In the house?
George: Naw. Got the dish put on the side of The Shed this week. Sky Sports. Plasma screen.
Me: You’re joking?
Silence.
George: [Puzzled] No.
More silence.
I’m not a big sports fan. But this sounds too good to be true.
Me: Can I come round?
George: No.
posted by Tired Dad at
8:44 pm
25 Comments:
Poor George. I was delighted to send my school going kids and school teaching husband back off to school this week. And they are all mine. Add anyone else's kids to that mix and I would have ordered a padded cell built at the end of the garden (with or without posh telly)
I found my two small children in the shed at the bottom of the garden with bulging cheeks and a packet of digestive biscuits. Perhaps they have had enough of ME (8 days to go ...)
Now then, David (sounding like your mum, telling you off) George is a busy man, with a crowded house and he needs a bit of peace. He deserves it.
He doesn't want another child to deal with.
Now, go and play. There's a good boy.
Wish I had kids.
Legend
Fantastic! Everyone needs a place to hide out from time to time...just because we "grow older" doesn't mean we necessarily "grow up" and out of the need for a treehouse or fort or shed to get away from it all. Most of the people I love, I love more best when I can get enough along time!
With all that kit in there I just hope George has strong locks on both sides of the door.
One more week then I can pack them back off to school and sit in a corner for a day, rocking and keening gently all to myself.
A shed with satellite TV? That's it, I'm stomping my feet and sulking until I get one.
Seriously though, I think I might start building myself a shed-den thingy.
I will marry George and pretend to be queer. Well, with Sky in his shed I may not have to pretend much....
Missy: Sartre was wrong. Hell is in fact other people's children.
Me: I understand it's a grim time for all concerned.
Tea: Aaah. The poor sod.
Anon: Yeah you do.
Eliza: He is currently my personal hero.
K: I agree.
Ang: To be honest, he didn't seem to have considered the security element of his new 'home'. I will be sure to mention it to him.
Pie: Do it. According to 'George', the only other option was dis-embowelment. Which doesn't sound like fun.
Dinners: I've asked and he isn't up for it.
wow. George has his own man cave. He can't allow company since wifey and company might see you and demand their turn at the satellite stuff. I'm sure Barney is available 24/7.
Will you be building a shed?
Was having a quick scan of your archives to see how you've grown/nmutated horribly over time, and realised that the first post of yours I read was 16-17 months ago! You're like an old-timer in the blogging world now. A creaky old gimmer.
Oh, and everyone should have a shed of their own, whether it accomodates a hi-def TV and a beer fridge, or a broken lawnmower and a sack of bloodfish and bone that the cat pisses in. But they should also share such good fortune with others.
I want to go and play at his house in the shed! I am seriously impressed.
Bog off Pinky I'm first..
Caz is worryingly disappointed..
jali: Hello again. Um. No. I won't. The reasons why may or may not become clear.
m_g: You are becoming disconcerting.
pink: His place his space. It seems no visitors are welcome.
Dinners: I'm not even getting into this one.
I'd like a shed!
Give me his address.
That's what my ex-wives say. Boom tish.
Nah, just bored at work. What else is there to do but scan the web for entertaining diversions?
I wonder if his wife increased her fees to help fund this? It was the kids that drove him to take these desperate measures after all.
I never even liked my own kids..
sounds like a nightmare
I never even liked my own kids..
sounds like a nightmare
4Kids: Who wouldn't? It's the prime ingredient of a successful marriage I'm told. It's often referred to as an 'office' to by the more hoity-toity.
Fwen: If he's not letting me in he shan't entertain you. With you on the noise by the way.
M_G: Don't know. You could do something constructive. Forget it. Feeling a bit daffy this evening.
DJ: Genius! I'll suggest it to him and insist upon commission.
C: You understand this is a public forum and will never go away? THEY'LL READ THIS IN TWENTY YEARS TIME!!
I'm feeling George's pain. And LOVING the sound of his shed.
londongirl: In my mind's eye it has a reclining leather armchair. I do not know if this is true but from what I have already heard it is within the realms of reason.
my kids are in their 30's..
they have very thick hides by now
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