Inpursuitof

I freaking love DIY. Trouble is, I’m not very good at it. When I was little, my grandad instilled in me that absolutely anything that was less than 98% holes was fixable with a little bit of old yoghurt pot, something that was last made in the 50s and some twine. Cue 14 hours for an ‘oh, it’ll only take a minute’ job that got far worse before it got better. It did get better though, and that’s what mattered to my seven-year-old self. Now a touch older, I’ve deployed this rationale without the thirty years of training my granddad had, to mixed results. The chest of drawers that became a TV stand is still going, but the attempts I’ve made at repairing my bicycle means it decidedly is not. An increasing number of things in our flat are jerry-rigged with some electrical and/or double-sided tape which is fine until my girlfriend sees how it looks… 

1) A plastic bag to a man in Lidl who was refusing to buy a new one because he obviously had 15 in the cupboard under the sink.

2) Ros, our hairdresser friend.

3) A cyclist who saw my hair and offered me a comb.