To the paint shop.

We’re having the house painted. I’m useless at any practical chore but can just about be trusted to visit Chris Stevens on the Holloway Road to buy the paint. It’s where the trade go and it’s where I pretend I’m one of them. My dad worked on building sites and most of my schoolmates went into the building trade so, even though I merely type for a living, I strut into Chris Stevens like an old pro, dropping my aitches, giving it large. I plumbed new depths this morning, addressing the assistant as “bruv”. Being of “dual heritage” I’ve been known to affect the Irish vernacular too, “Annyway” instead of “ennyway” and talking about having the craic. Pathetic but convincing enough to get a trade discount. But times are changing. If I want to retain my builder cred and trade discount, I may have to brush up on my Polish.