Safe as Houses

Tuesday 2nd November

Day 195

The door bell rings at exactly 8.30 am. I knew it would - you can set your watch by our electrician. He shakes hands with me and then with my husband who’s eating toast and strawberry jam at the table. A nice firm handshake - old fashioned, courteous. He’s been sorting out our electrics for seven years.

While he’s fixing the dimmer switch in the kitchen, I lean against the sink with a cup of tea and listen to his stories. He had both his knees operated on four years ago and thought he’d never work again. Yesterday he walked seventeen miles on Dartmoor.

This afternoon when I arrive at my father’s he’s sitting at his round table in front of a chessboard - playing against himself. The room is in disarray with all the furniture pulled away from the walls. There is a man with a screwdriver in one hand and a plug in the other. He’s the handyman for the home and is checking all the electrical appliances comply with regulations - eighteen in my father’s case. While I cut up a melon, change the sheets, make a doctor’s appointment, I listen to his stories. He worked as an ambulance man for twenty five years. Then he fell off a ladder.

I like these men. I’m so grateful to them with their huge mysterious tool boxes and lengths of flex. And all that knowledge in their heads and in their finger tips. Keeping us safe in our houses.