Every Woman needs a Willie

If you are reading this expecting something phallic - stop now - Willie is my handyman!  Every woman needs a handy man and being married or in a relationship is no guarantee of having one.  I found this out to my cost as both of mine were not much addition in the handyman stakes.  The first had the patience to read the instructions which was one step better than me.  I was more inclined to hit stuff with a hammer.  The second when he could be bothered was a bit better, but in no way practical.

Willie has a full time job so his handyman stints are nixers (or foreigners as they say in the U.K).  That means you have to wait until he has finished whatever shift he is on.  Willie doesn't stand on ceremony and he doesn't believe in door bells.  Willie just opens the door and lands in.

He also shouts loudly and every conversation is peppered with expletives.  He is particularly loud with me as - I am able to take it - his words.  One time he was here doing a job and one of my sisters rang.  She heard him in full flow and whispered "are you ok"?

He has fixed my Kitchen Aid, blitzers, blenders, washing machines, tumble driers, dishwashers, pumps, and recently installed a timer on my immersion heater.  He has unblocked drains, plumbed in showers, freed up a Velux window, hung roller blinds and hung a clothes horse - pulley device on the landing to exploit the heat rising from the stove.  All were fixed with cheerful loud banter, usually berating women as being useless, annoying and the best way to deal with them is to agree with everything they say.

I had the misfortune to take out a 5 year guarantee on a washing machine I bought a while back.  The first time I needed a call out, I rang the number given on the guarantee and was connected eventually to a call centre in outer Milton Keynes (or somewhere) - to an operator who asked where in southern Ireland I was.  I told her there was no such political entity, I was actually almost in Ulster but was in the Republic of Ireland and was met with a stunned silence.  Then she requested my address.  No house number or name were bad enough, but no street address and; horror of horror; no post code!  By the time the call was over she was beyond stressed and I was ready to "fix" said washing machine with said hammer.

The 5 year guarantee still lingers but will never again be used and instead Willie rides in to the rescue, all the time cursing feckin women!

Postscript
It annoys me when companies sell their products here in Ireland but then cover us by a UK call centre who have no training or knowledge of the country geographically or politically.