It is a long time since we had a new bathroom installed. Years have passed and it’s ready for doing again but we keep putting it off with all the ‘are we moving, are we staying’ discussions. Whether we upgrade or not, I’m keeping out of it. Last time, when the plumber completed the installation, the tiler came to measure up. I knew exactly what I wanted and where to order them from, so off I went to the tile shop with the information safely in my head. The tiler, very busy and in demand, booked us in on schedule with the tiles arrival and all went according to plan, until, when setting everything out, he wondered if there was a box missing. There were not enough tiles to complete. He measured the walls again and checked his square metre calculations. Oops. I could feel the blush of my embarrassment as I had to tell him I’d ordered the quantity in square yards. Completely my fault, no miscalculation, just an honest mistake, but he was disappointed that he wouldn’t finish the job on time and I felt stupid. More tiles were ordered. We had to wait ages for the tiler to fit us in again – it was only a small area to finish off and I began to think he was making us wait on purpose – all my fault. Don’t trust me with anything important like measurements, ordering and quantity surveying. I’m only really good for color co-ordinating and knitting.
I expect lots of us as younger individuals still living with parents have run out of money before the next pay day comes round, or maybe that was just me. At seventeen I was the proud owner of an Austin A40. I spent my last pound on a couple of gallons of three star petrol to last me the week, perhaps a bit more, then I’d get my wages. I had been driving to work and back in town and a bit of visiting friends, nothing of any distance.A few days later, I’d stopped not far from home and couldn’t get the car started again. I did what I’d been told to do and what anyone on their own should do, that’s find the nearest phone box and call Dad. Mobile phones were in the future. Dad listened to my description of the car’s symptoms. The ticking sound on the ignition meant it was out of petrol. He would bring me some. He knew I didn’t have money for a day or two. Bless him. Of course the petrol gauge was on zero, but it often was and I was sure it would last the week, a complete miscalculation. Dad’s words of advice which I followed from then on, was not to allow the petrol tank to run so low, otherwise sediment can get sucked up and cause problems. This might not apply to modern cars, I’m going back fifty years.
A few Haikus:
The diff’rence betweenSquare metres and yards,
Miscalculation.
When wages are spent
And it’s nowhere near pay day,
Miscalculation.
Austin A 40
Economical first car
That ran on fresh air.
Thanks for reading, Pam x
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