Tuesday, 30 January 2007

A bonding session.

While I had more than enough to occupy myself re-weeding and planting up the island beds, my husband decided to tackle the job of laying the patio at the back of the house, with the help of our elder son. The materials we required, paving slabs, sand and cement, had been delivered a few weeks previously and had been stored in the outhouse to keep them dry.

Armed with a spirit-level, a ball of string, a plank of wood, a spade, a chisel, and our teenage helper in tow, my husband set about laying the first row of paving slabs. It was a fairly straightforward job, they assured me, since the slabs were merely 18 inches by 18 inches, and were, therefore, relatively easy for the big strong arms of a father and son to manoeuvre into place. This was a relief, for though I was capable of working for hours at a time in the garden, to me, being of the fairer sex, it felt as if each slab weighed a ton.

Our elder son’s job was to collect the slabs in the wheelbarrow, four at a time, from the outhouse, and deliver them to my husband, who piled them up, one on top of the other, in little groups. After that he collected sand and cement and anything else that was needed. With their coordination they made an excellent team and, together, completed the job within one short week.

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