D-I-Why?

As we complete another COVID-19 lockdown and I assess the state of another few attempts at small home improvement jobs, I wonder to myself if an ability to do DIY is inherited?

I have to ask because my upbringing was within a family that lacked these skills. My Dad tried but rarely succeeded with DIY tasks. My Mum would always say “just get someone in”.

A few examples would be in the bathroom with the ‘Jackson Pollock‘ style delivery of tile adhesive and sealant from the sealant gun. The shouting at the top of the voice for a specific screwdriver - “flat head one, Phillips one“. “Phillip’s what?” my Mum would reply. I also remember his story of being “fired across the Dining Room floor” when making space for a book shelf, he chose to use a hammer and screwdriver to remove an old power socket. It was clearly still live!

My Mum would generally focus on the decorating aspect of DIY. Sadly not a great forte of hers. The incorrectly hung or basically 'upside down' wallpaper and lavishly splattered wallpaper paste spewing from the sides or the gloss paint appearing as though it had been distributed by a weapon of mass destruction a lasting memory for me. Let's not even mention the 'stencilling' or 'rag-rolling' phase. I'm sure many of these could be used as the basis for a kids video game these days. Just as I write this my daughter mentions to me a game called Splatoon.... I don't believe it....too late to make millions I guess!!

Clearly, there was no hope for me when it came to DIY!

I certainly didn’t do loads before becoming a Dad but what I did do, I took what skills I hard gathered and tried my best. I’m not sure why this changes when you have children, maybe it’s bravado. Look at me 'DIY Dad', how impressive!!! Unfortunately, this 'DIY Dad' strap-line became more of a joke the older the children became. ”Oh no, here he comes, 'DIY Dad', cover your ears the bad language will start soon” or “get out quickly, while you still can, 'DIY Dad' is about to try and mend something” would be typically sarcastic comments...

Friends were not much more sympathetic either. Two good friends of ours would always comment “all the gear, no idea”. I can recall us having conversations (over a glass of wine or two) about amazing conversions and extension plans. Clearly, later becoming a great topic for mickey taking as we all grew older and older - with no changes to the house whatsoever! That did change when we actually took the step to do something - after 15 years. You’ll be pleased to know I didn’t do any of the work!

At the very early stages of marriage, my wife and I made a really good effort of painting and decorating, took time with sealant jobs and even tried a few things to upcycle such as: painting kitchen cupboards and tiles, changing taps. I even changed wall sockets and fitted dimmer switches. You also become a whizz at flat pack when you buy your own home and start the flat pack journey through life. I must have about 500 IKEA Allen keys. I’m sure there needs to be a separate ‘Allen Key’ recycling box at your front door - maybe not as full as the bottle recycling!

However, as I became a Dad and as I grow older, these activities have started to reduce and the success rate started to drop. In fact, all of us noticed a failure rate well in excess of the success rate. Generally my wife would start by saying "shall I get the plasters ready?" or "should I dial two 9's so we are ready? Just in case!" I’m very good at dismantling things but not great at creating the replacement. On one occasion making a great job of removing an area of decking but on replacing for patio, not so great. Once completed, the patio resembled more of a wavy seascape rather than the levelled home for the garden furniture.

Another example, such as a simple task of fixing a mirror to the wall would appear easy at first. By the end, the wall seemed to resemble a firing range target with the puncture wounds in the plasterboard randomly distributed.

Talking of puncture wounds... on one particularly bad occasion during lockdown, I was in the garden undertaking a few angry cat poo removal trips due to a new cat in the area - I thought it would be sensible to fit those ‘cat defenders’ across the top of the fences. That will help keep the cat out, I thought. Unfortunately, on fitting, incorrectly I might add by standing on the mini storage box rather than a ladder, I slip. “They certainly work” I shout as I pull my impaled arm from the ‘defender‘ to see two deep puncture holes in my lower forearm; bright red blood seeping from the wounds. Ouch! I can hear all those cat owners laughing loudly...

A 3-hour round trip to A&E for cleaned and glued wounds taught me - not to bother in future.

DI-Why - just get someone in!!!!