Most days, I drive past a lovely but rather run down house, which is being extensively renovated. I could not afford this house even when it was a complete wreck. I read about it when it was for sale a few months ago in one of the local ‘property porn’ publications which I consume frequently but furtively. I know its wrong to look at these magazines, but I just get drawn in, even though I always end up feeling ashamed of myself afterwards. I have also found recently that I need more specialist material to get the sort of thrill that I had when I first started flicking through them out of curiosity.
Anyway, I have been watching the progress of this renovation, and the house is nearly complete. The builders on the project are a group of burly middle-aged men who had decided to remove their T-shirts today and reveal the full glory of their bowling ball bellies to the outside world – or maybe I’ve got it wrong and they are all seven months pregnant.
As I drove along in a very slow moving line of traffic, with the car window down, I had a chance to marvel at the new roof, ogle the freshly painted windows, and lust after the side and attic conversions. I don’t think I was drooling. Well, not excessively.
My fantasies were rudely interrupted when one of the builders, obviously a stranger to the salad bar, shouted at me from the scaffolding: ‘Getting an eyeful, love?’ and winked.
There really was no suitable response. I either had to let him continue the sublime self-delusion that he is something of a demi-god, whose rotund, hairy torso is worthy of worship, or confess my sad, carnal property lust.
I opted for the middle ground, and told him I was just admiring his bay window.
Tonight, I am drinking a glass of Tesco Finest Howcroft Estate Shiraz (£7.99). H is more of a
I am hoping it will help to dispel the deepening concern that I am now of an age where builders on scaffolding think I am lusting after them, rather than the other way round. Perhaps attack is the best form of defence. Tomorrow I shall drive past the house and yell at the assorted builders’ bums: ‘Look at the arse on that – you could park your bike in there!’
Maybe I should just have another glass of
14 comments:
The great thing about being d'un certain age is that who cares about what the builders say....go for it. Loudly.
Perhaps they're the Harry Enfield type of builder, who listens to Radio 4 and then feels obliged to yell a bit every now and then - just so they don't let the side down.
Sod dignity - just do it!!
I love that expression "property porn" - I shall write it down and use it regularly!
DM
I agree. Give them an earful. Tell them to put their tits away for a start...
Dignity be damned - relish the moment. Draw up a list of daily retorts. Deliver one each time you go past. Let 'em have some of their own medicine served up with your vastly superior wit.
Fabulous. I walked past some builders the other day in the 'new bra' and got whistled at. I was so chuffed I thanked them as it has been a long long long time since I got whistled at - made my day!
Yeah, go on, do it...!
Thought builders were no longer allowed to flaunt their physiques and drool like geriatrics....go on, shout back - plenty of material there for the barbed comment!
That reminded me of Harry Enfield's builders.
Give it 'em back I say!
Ah yes, the lovely pot-belly physique! Why is it that they are the ones who think they are God's gift to women?? If only I could bottle that confidence and sell it, I'd be filthy rich!!
Drive by everyday and yell something, then report back and post the results!
Oh my yes, DO IT!
BRILLIANT! made me laugh out loud. builders do have a knack of turning you into a quivering wreck when you walk past them. what is it with them? i become very self conscious, try to look straight ahead, go bright red, give a coy little smile (while having some obscenity hurled at me), my walk uncontrollably turns into a waddle, and then i trip over something. i can never muster the courage to say something back. i might use your line next time!
omega mum, M&M, SAHD, Mopsa, Lucy, debio, jenny, and lady macleod - gosh you all sound like those participants in suicide chat rooms!
I'm very disappointed to say, that when I drove past the house today, they had removed all the scaffolding, and Ray Winstone's fatter brother was nowhere to be seen.
The one builder I did see was such a radioactive red from yesterday's over-exposure, that I felt he had probably suffered enough.
I am a little irked that I missed my chance for a decent retaliation, but buoyed up by your supportive comments, I will be cracking my knuckles and flexing in anticipation next time I approach a building site!
beta mum and akelamalu - that thought did cross my mind too. My favourite skit in that current series is 'I saw you coming' - it really makes me laugh.
Dulwich Mum - just make sure James doesn't mis-interpret it. You'll be fighting him off you again.
SAHD - it did look a bit like a cross-gender convention.
Secretary - hey, if you've still got it, flaunt it!
Hello Elsie Button!
If you had gone bright red around these blokes, you would have fitted right in. I'm sure you would have had the matching boobs, but I hope, for your sake, you don't have the hairy belly
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