We are building an extension on our house.
The tension is not ex, but very current.
There are holes, and there is talk of pipes and plastering – and, worse still, ownership of fences. I nod, and shuffle, and look anxious, as the unexplainable is explained.
Today, I spent two hours adjusting a plane, in order to shave slivers from the underside of a door. This is not my purpose.
I am not a man of God. However, I do believe we have a path to tread, and an ultimate goal. My path and goal do not involve slivers from the underside of a door.
In the same way that some have found God, I have found crosswords. The holy spirit-level is not for me. I worship at the Araucarian altar. I never once have – hang on, perhaps there was the one time, though I was very sozzled – knelt to pray before a chisel.
The tools of my trade are a trusty dictionary and a thesaurus.
Mine is the crossword puzzle. Thine is the jigsaw.
For ever and ever.