After a combined total of 30 years of marriage to two gadgies, once on my ownio, guess fit was the first thing I wanted? Another man.
Nooo, I didnae launch masellie into the ether to search for an online Romeo. As the Markies ads put it, I wisnae after just ony gent. He had to be special.
I desperately needed a handyman. You see both my hubbies had been dab-hands at DIY, while I loathed the very thought of wielding a screwdriver or paintbrush. I was OK for the major work which required a qualified tradesman, like a plumber or electrician, thanks to my list of tried-and-tested laddos.
But I needed someone for the other jobbies and the little things that go kaput in your hoosie. In a wye, I wanted the perfect husband; he does the work pronto – then gets lost. Bliss.
Far tae find him?
Asked aroon but such a person seemed to be as rare as hens’ teeth. Then my 90-year-old uncle, who’s since passed on, came up trumps.
He kint this painter and decorator by trade who could also turn his hand to just aboot onything. Was one of his pupils yonks ago at the old Ruthrieston Secondary. Sounded ideal, so I got his name and number.
He’s my right hand handyman
Phoned him and the conversation went like this:
Me: “Is that Steve?” Long pause, then here’s him: “Have you got anything to do with ….?” and he gave my uncle’s name.
Astonished, here’s me: “How on earth did you know that? Yes, he’s my uncle.”
Sez he: “Because Jim used to be my teacher and to this day still mistakenly ca’s me Steve instead of Jake, even though I keep correcting him.” Sounded exactly like my uncle.
Since that day, he’s been my right-hand man, my go-to whenever I’ve a domestic kerfuffle.
Not only that, he’s painted the insides and ootside of the hoosie mony times, regularly blitzes my gutters, power-cleans, puts up and takes doon photographs, paintings, fixes broken blinds, jammed curtains, shaves doors, you name it. All the work perfect.
Jim will fix it!
I just need to text him about my current problem and he’s here within a pucklie days.
Even better, his prices are ridiculously cheap (hope he’s nae readin’ this) right now, he’s doin’ stuff for four of my pal -although I like to think I’m still his special one.
My latest glitch was the overhead bathroom light; been there since I moved in 19 years ago.
Big flat thing whose removal defeated my helpful son-on-law, so who to turn to but my Jobbie Buster?
He got off the complicated contraption then even went doon to B&Q for a similar replacement. Back, fitted, done. I went to inspect it, but it went off immediately after I walked in.
Jake tinkered wie the wiring then clocked the problem. He hadn’t noticed ‘movement sensitive,’ on the box ie it went oot if naebody was there.
Economical. Nae problem. Except I forgot to tell my granddaughter the first time she used it, on Saturday night. “Nana,” she scraiked. “The light’s gone off!” So I shouted back: “Just wave your arms aboot.” When she came oot, how we laughed. And no,I’m nae revealing Jake’s particulars. You’ll a’ want him.
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of the Evening Express and The Press and Journal, and started her journalism career in 1970
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