I am having a conservatory built on the back of the house. which I plan to use for my counselling. I say 'I' because it is my project, so the builder called in yesterday to lay out ready for the cement base to be put down today. There had been some discussion about whether to move the side gates or not and we had finally decided not, and when Bob the Builder turned up, we ran through the decisions we had made and he started to measure up.
"I'll just shut the back door," he said, "and get on with measuring."
So he did and I carried on doing what I was doing in the living room, roughly about six yards away from him.
Minutes later, Keith phoned.
"Is that all-right, then?" he asked.
"Is what all-right?"
"Moving the gates. He says he can't get the full width otherwise. Didn't he say anything to you? He's just rung me up to ask about it."
So, having shared my views on this way of going about things with Keith, (who then retired to nurse his sore ear), I waited...
When the gates had been moved and Bob and his sidekick were about to leave, I went to the door.
"Oh," I said sweetly, "I see you moved the gates after all."
"Oh yes, I rang the boss..." he began.
I stopped him there and explained it to him.
I was quite amicable about it. Not a word passed my lips about sexism or male chauvinist pigs - really.
"We'll be here between half eight and nine in the morning," he promised. "And I'll bring you a white hat, as you're the boss."
It's three minutes to nine and all is silent....