The Man Comes Around

I confessed to a friend this evening that whilst I had never made love to a man before, I came close this evening when a friend (and Kendal’s premier plumbing technician) gave my boiler a good seeing-to.

It was making some very strange noises “Does it sound like it’s drowning? Yes!” so I put in an SOS call late afternoon and early evening a fine figure of a man was upon my doorstep. There he was dressed in full evening wear, bow tie tied to perfection, hair beautifully styled and smoking a gauloises, which he drew on one last time before casting it aside as he looked me up and down.

With an economy of words matched only by his plumbing prowess he uttered in a French accent: “You’ve got a boiler, slowly drowning, in a cupboard. Take me to it.” 

Silently, we walked through the house to the cupboard in question. Locating the stricken boiler, he pressed his ear to it and gently stroking the side of it, I heard him whisper: “show me where it hurts, my darling”. Seeing me looking on with awed fascination whilst covering the eyes of my children, he shut himself in the cupboard with the boiler and told me that he was going to need a moment.

I sent the children to their rooms, whilst I nervously paced for what felt like hours - but in reality was probably only a few minutes - until eventually he emerged and seeing my panic stricken face, he softly caressed my cheek.

He spoke no words, choosing instead to allow an almost imperceptible smile dance across his face and coupling it with the faintest of nods, told me that I had nothing to fear. It was over. It was going to be alright.

I cleared my throat and turned to reach for my wallet. Turning back, I stuttered “H…h…how much do I owe y….” 

But he was gone. 

With a quiet contentment, the boiler gently hummed away.