I know this may seem like a really odd sounding post to start with but hopefully it’s intriguing enough to get a few inquisitive viewings and I did say my content was going to be a little sporadic, didn’t I!
Well this story came about because of a funny situation I found myself in today. My everyday life and work includes doing gardening and odd jobs for many different people, it’s how I pay the bills. Well anyway, I got a call this morning from one of my regular clients, an older and rather glamorous lady who lives on her own. She had recently took delivery of a new bed for her guest room and needed someone to put it together. I was obviously more than happy to oblige.
When I arrived I saw that the bed in question was a divan double with a top that lifted, you know the sort, hydraulic type pistons and the like (picture on the right).
My immediate thought was that this job wasn’t going to take too long as I believed I was going to be constructing a wooden bed frame with a lot of parts. However, there were no instructions and, Jesus, was this thing heavy to move about. As if the weight and lack of instructions weren’t bad enough the room I was putting it together in was barely big enough to swing a hamster in never mind a cat!
Anyways, I got to work and figured out how it needed to go together, the trouble was that I needed to bolt the heavy top onto some metal brackets that were fitted on the inside of the base. I came to the conclusion that the only way I could do this was to climb inside the divan bed and drag the heavy top into place thus entombing myself until such time that I had attached the top and was able to use my legs to push it open.
Here’s the thing. It was about 30 degrees centigrade, I didn’t have a torch (it was bloody dark inside this divan bed) and the lady owner had to pop out for a little while. Any sane person would have waited until there was somebody else there but no, I just went ahead and started.
Once I’d managed to drag the cover into the right place I was immediately plunged into a hot sweaty darkness, it was if I had been buried in some padded coffin. After a few panicky, groping in he dark, moments I found the bolts and eventually managed to get them fitted. During this process and unbeknown to me, the lady owner had returned, and not being able to locate me she’d incorrectly presumed I must have popped out for something.
Unluckily for her, I decided to emerge from my floral decorated tomb just as she was passing the room, which scared her half to death in the process. Thankfully she was fine a few moments later and laughing as was my wife later that evening when I was telling her.
I have to admit, I am the only bloke I know who has told their wife that they had got paid to spend the afternoon in another woman’s bed and got clean away with it. In fact she’s having a good laugh about it with all her mates too!