Odd Job Man / May 31 2007
My mother and stepfather John came to visit yesterday.
Whenever they come around, my mother is always straight into the kitchen looking for a duster, and John goes directly into the garden to tend to the lawn and bizzy-lizzies. (Aren’t parents useful sometimes.)
John decided that the lawnmower was in need of its annual service, so he began his morning duties by expertly removing various bits from it and giving them a thoroughly good clean.
‘Any oil, Napoleon?’ He asked as I took a cup of tea out to him. ‘These blades and traction arms need lubricating.’
‘I haven’t, John,’ I yawned. Then, as a joke: ‘All I have is an old tube of haemorrhoid ointment in the bathroom cabinet. Is that any good to you?’
‘It’ll do,’ he said, earnestly.
‘Ha ha ha,’ I chortled, faintly disturbed.
It is one of the strangest sights I have ever seen: my elderly stepfather whistling happily away on a sunny spring morning whilst painstakingly and lovingly rubbing Anusol with his middle finger around the internal workings of an old Flymo electric mower.
Another weird and wonderful image burned into my mind for all eternity.
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