[m i a o w] the cat

Earlier today I sat here at my desk listening to the sound of two shovels eating gravel, and then the two whumping noises of that gravel hitting the ground, where, one day, temple-like, our car port will be.

Watch this space - these are just the foundations of the Humber home

M and my Dad are doing blokey work stuff. I am deskbound today and tomorrow, and am finding myself observing that strange male process of the bartering of ideas. By which I mean, watching two guys who both think - oops, sorry - know they are right, try to get their opinion accepted by the other.

I must admit that I am taking a bit of wicked pleasure in seeing someone else have a differing opinion to M - usually that’s my role. Being in a live-in situation with someone where both of you are home all the time can sometimes dilute the ability to have a nice clean discussion that includes your differing opinions. Sometimes things get thrown, or M goes gargoyle-frowny, or I get rash, or we have The Silence. Sometimes all four, in different order, just for fun. This time however, I don’t even feature. I don’t even have a walk on part. I’m out of the equation! I’m sitting about five rows from the front, throwing back the popcorn, watching my Dad try to tell M that instant concrete is far better for the job they want to do, and watching M try to gracefully beg to differ (as he grasps the dawning realisation that he’s now having to deal with someone that he can’t baffle with blokey knowledgeable DIY anecdotes and the occasional pythagorean theory).

When M and I work together on big projects, I usually take on the role of those little cleaning fish that travel with large tortoises. I do the prep work, I fill the gaps, I fix up the stuff at the end after M has done some high grade transformational carpentry - or, I paint window frames. Many, many, many window frames. But now he is having to rub along with someone who knows all about that stuff, and can say so without even a flicker of a tangential thought of whether the relationship will survive the next trip to Bunnings. I’m loving it. More popcorn please.