Fucking Builders!

Sorry I've not posted in so long, peeps. I've been distracted and, frankly, fucking exhausted! That's because I've been running around like a headless fucking chicken, trying to get shit done around here while this hint of 'better' weather holds. And I've been failing miserably! NOT my fucking fault!

I have this last window I need sorting out. See; The brit govt had owed me a shit load of money. Bastards strung out paying me for about Fifteen Years! Think about that. Imagine knowing ye were worth shit loads. Yet living hand to mouth as ye waited to get that munge. Can ye imagine the plans and dreams ye'd cook up, modify, abandon and re dream in fifteen fucking years of waiting?

Anyway, having bought this hovel and come here to see what I'd bought, one of the most obvious things was that it needed windows! Straight up. It had two ~ out of seven! ~ windows in anything like tolerable state. I made the two that tad more tolerable by squirting expanding foam into the gaps. Gaps so large fucking swallows were coming in through them and nesting in the room! Rest of the 'windows' I just boarded up.

So, the fuckers coughed up ~ I fuckin' out lived them! Bastards! ~ and I called in this firm I'd had reccomended to me and whose work I'd personally sneaked about inspecting. Result? I now have six beautiful windows.

Oh; And a door. Front door. Front door which is the absolute envy of everyone who's seen it. Gorgeous, 'Stable' door. Now, if I tie le Ding's legs together, I can open the top half in the summer, If we ever get one. Else le Ding would just sail out over the damn thing and get shot for tormenting the cattle.

But, anyway ..... So, I have this last window. It's my kitchen one. It stands opposite my door. I want It made into a door, see? Nice, 'plain', planked sort of door. Fuck off big glazed upper half. The firm does them and they're gorgeous too. Need the glass because that's going to be my only, natural light in this huge space, see?

So, I want the window removing. Bit of wall below it taking out. Hole 'squared' up and left as something they can measure up for a tailor made door. Simple enough?

Look; Here's the window

Fucking forget it! That's where the nightmare begins. I need a Builder to make and square that hole. You ever tried getting a fucking Builder, in Co. Leitrim? I have. I've been here before! FFS!

Spoke to Steve. Steve called a guy there and then. " He'll be round tomorrow. " Was he fuck! I gave it a couple of days and told Steve he could tell his builder to get to fuck. Cunt never even rang me or Steve, to make excuses. Just promised and pissed off. Cunt.

Tried Gary. Gary said he knew a guy. We'll call this guy Derick, because I honestly can't remember the pricks real name. Seems Derick likes a drink. Don't we all? But he's sober and Good when on a job. He just has his 'Sessions'.

Okay. I can live with that. I don't have 'sessions', personally. I'm just a piss head. But, I never drink and work. I refuse to even try to work, untill I've slept the night before off. I don't allow bookings untill I'm sure I'll have woke up and got my shit together. And, if I say to expect me? Expect me. I'll be there and I'll be good. But then; I'm a Rat Catcher. These cunts call themselves 'Builders' .....

Day one: No Derick. No calls.

Day Two: Derick calls. He'll be round to look at the job, tomorrow.

Day Three: No Derick. I call Gary and tell him to tell his Derick to Fuck Off! Twenty minutes later, Derick calls. His motor's broken down, but he'll be here the next day, if he has to hire one! (I'm thinking; Gary's ye sponser. He's a fucking taxi driver! Call A Fucking Cab!!!)

Day Four: Derick turns up. He looks at the job. Quotes me £500 (?!?) and mentions what a nice Pot Cart I have and how it must've cost me a fortune ~ Not as much as You seem set on costing me! I then mention, with genuine concern, the smoke / steam issuing from his motors bonnet. Swift exit, Derick!

Day five: He calls to say he'll be round on day eight, to start a two day job. I point out that I'll be out that day. Make it day nine? Agreed.

Day nine? No Derick. No call. No Way is this cunt yanking My chain any more!

So, I'm explaining all this to Pat, today. Pat's a lovely guy. He says He knows a couple of people. He'll make a call or two. If They fuck up? Fuck it; " We'll do it ourselves! ". And I wouldn't put that past Pat for a moment.

I've personally seen that guy rip down and rebuild one of his own, century + old, stone built cow sheds. He'd never done it before. He simply wanted it done and to preserve the character. So he just set too and worked it out as he went along. His work was perfect!

I since met Padraigh (That's actually pronounced " Porrigg ". No. I didn't know that either, till I got here!) who reckons he knows a Proper Builder. I said I'm willing to listen. Oh; And I met Gary too. Told him to tell his Derick he can fuck off back to the pub!

So, here I am; Pushing two fucking weeks in, and the window's still in. And I'm ~ half ~ pissed. And pissed off. And stressed out.

Get this fucking hole made and then I have to call Lisa. Lisa will - knowing her? Pretty soon get round here to look at and measure it. We'll then look at her catalogue and decide me a door. Then she'll book her guy, to come and measure it 'professionally', for the fit.

Then she'll tell the Joinery what size to make my new door. Then I'll have to wait a couple of weeks (minimum) while they create the damn thing. Then it'll have to be delivered. Then Lisa's man will come back here and, Glory Be! He'll have the damn thing in that hole inside an hour!

See why I'm stressed out? Pissed off?! And, to cap all that? I'm yet to work out how the fuck I'm going to block off a door sized hole, for Weeks, which my Dogs won't be able to just exit through, pretty much on a whim, and get them damn selves shot!

Now, if ye'll forgive and excuse me, I really should be getting off to the Dog Pile. I have a shit load to think about and get done, as usual. Doubtless yet another day of Other caused shit.

Fucking Builders!!!