Monday night I usually headed off to see friends, who used to be my house mates in an even earlier time. Although, I rarely if ever worked Monday nights. Repairs of the house weren’t limited to Saturday, and so on some weeknights I had to put in a few hours after work, especially if crucial facilities, such as the bathroom, were out of action. Saturday night was usually a quiet affair, and in those days there was no internet and so friends may have organised something, or we’d enjoy a quiet night at home. Construction zones are rarely fun places to visit for people not intimately involved in the work. On late Saturday afternoon’s the editors mum would drop by for a visit, and they’d leave and go some place nicer for a few hours. We did everything to that house from, re-blocking it (which is replacing the timber stumps that the house sat on and is an experience that has left me with a distaste for mud even to this very day), to rebuilding the rear extension (which was originally of dubious quality and falling down). Saturdays were the day spent repairing the house. Mind you, the combination of boundless energy and naïvety, enabled us to overlook the niceties of living in a dump, and we set ourselves the challenge of repairing the house using our own labour. The editor and I had purchased our first home in a very undesirable industrial suburb, and not to put too fine a point on it, the house was a wreck of a place. Of course I was a much younger feller back then, and being younger you have an inbuilt combination of boundless energy and naïvety. And the other day I recalled the days of the mid 1990’s, during the recession that ‘we had to have’, that I worked far harder than I do today. The various tasks can be hard, true, but we take them at a relaxed pace. I’m always surprised at comments saying how hard we work because to me the various projects here progress along at a pretty relaxed pace from my perspective. What can I say, I liked the cash! And anyway, I had incentive to work hard because pocket money was as rarer than unicorns! Long term readers will recall that I was a mercenary little child, who during some years worked up to three jobs a day as well as attending school.
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