Dave; a man for all seasons

Dave the builder is back.  He’s been ill with Covid.  I’m not sure he should be up a ladder just yet, but he says he’s OK.

We first met two Summers ago, when he was working on what would eventually become our kitchen (see extra).  Oh happy days. 

He’s a remarkable young man in many ways, with a wide range of interests and a great sense of curiosity.  When we chat he’ll often surprise me with his diverse reading; from the Holocaust to advances in fuel cell technology.  And then there’s music.

I can’t imagine that there are many people under 30, listening to Tangerine Dream.  On vinyl.  He comes from a musical family and has been exposed to a wide range of music from an early age, so perhaps I shouldn’t be surprised.

He has strong views on parenting; his young son has been encouraged to write letters of thanks for presents.  With a pen, on paper.   He worries that it’s a skill that’s being lost.  I like his use of the word ‘skill’.

He wasn’t always like this though.  As a young lad, he and his mates used the derelict building that is now our home as a den for a cheeky fag or two.  He admitted that the graffiti in our kitchen was his.  There’s more behind the plasterboard in our study.  Had I known before he covered it up, I might have got him to sign it.

The houses at the bottom of the hill have all been sold now and once he’s finished getting them ready he’ll start on our snagging list.  Possibly Spring.  Probably Summer.  Hopefully not Winter.