Sunday, 14th May 2006

Charlie and the changing garden

It was good to see Charlie turn up with a cement mixer and a sledge hammer. I watched with glee as that awful shack started to wobble. I really wanted to join in with Charlie and give that slug-infested pile of rotten wood a good wallop but thought the better of it: I barely had enough energy to crush a grape never mind smash a shed. Still, just thinking about it made me feel good. The next important event that day was the arrival of the skip. I really know how to enjoy myself. Charlie had been told by the skip company that the skip would arrive at midday. By 2 pm and several calls the skip had not arrived. For some reason he wanted to be around for when the skip arrived. I later found out why. He said he needed to pop out to get some fencing and that he would be back in 20 minutes. The skip truck pulled into our road shortly afterwards being driven (somehow) by someone who I can only describe as Skip Man. A large, heavily tattooed man with a No. 1 hair cut proceeded to angle the skip truck so that he could winch the skip into our front garden. I watched with disbelief as, mobile phone firmly plugged into his right ear, with his right hand, he proceeded to try to reverse the skip truck into our garden. Not even the collision with the telegraph pole next to our house and me energetically waving at the back seemed to interrupt his conversation on his mobile. Finally, he noticed he could not reverse the truck, so he edged forward and repeated the manoeuver all over the again. The second collision evidently irritated him as some rather bad language emanated from the cabin.
This time, I shouted, "There's a telegraph pole behind you !"
The response that came back was barely intelligible. Obviously I wasn't expecting Charles Dickens to deliver a skip however neither did I imagine for one moment I would be left trying to negotiate with Neanderthal man.

Anyway, the second collision seemed to distract him from his his mobile phone conversation and he got out of the cabin and walked towards me. I stood my ground and quietly pointed at the telegraph pole. I figured hand signals were best in this situation. I waited for him to say something.
"£130.00 in cash before I leave this," he said.
I had already given the cash to Charlie as we knew he would need paying immediately. I thought about the mounting pile of rubbish in the back garden, and told him to wait while I went to get the cash. By the time I returned from the cash point, he had managed to lower the skip into the garden. When I asked for a receipt the conversation became a little strained.
"If you want a receipt then you have to give me an extra seventeen and a half percent." When I questioned this, his language became less eloquent and then he started to shout at me. "You've got the skip, if you want a receipt, you have to pay for it"
I told him I though this sounded a little unorthodox and that I would think twice before using his company again. He responded with an Anglo-Saxon-style salute and an abusive grunt before going back into the cabin of the truck. I made a mental note to leave all further communications with Skip Man to Charlie who was dismayed when he heard what had happened. He later confided to me that it would be the last time he would be using them too.