It was never going to be easy tonight. Most women can work out what's going on when you keep walking into things a la Sideshow Bob, dropping things on your foot, spilling coffee down yourself and randomly coming over all sweary and tearful, but you won't be able to play the be-gentle-with-me-I'm-premenstrual card in plumbing class for several decades yet.
Plumbing S was a star, and guided me through a range of health and safety assessments. What's wrong with this power drill? What do you use a junior hacksaw for? What kind of extinguisher do you use to put out a wood shavings fire near a fuse box? Why are threads on LPG hoses left handed? What personal protective equipment do you need when using a jigsaw?
The final bit was a test to see if you can solder without burning a hole in the board you've clamped your pipework to. Friendly K gave us some tips on heating from the side and avoiding solder blobs. And I did a beautiful job, if I say so myself.
B the teacher looked it over, blew down it to see if it leaked, and said 'wow Jo, you're getting to be better at this than the boys!'. The look he got said 'and your point IS?', but he wasn't looking, he was signing my assessment form. When he looked up, I was smiling like a lobotomy patient and shuffled off without a word. Even in this state, I find it pays to pick your battles.
The upside was the bike ride home. Normally, it's mildly terrifying negotiating the infamous Blackbird Leys chicane (put in to slow the joyriders down, allegedly), and I mutter 'please don't kill me please don't kill me' through gritted teeth all the way to Temple Cowley. But tonight I would have taken on any boy racers stupid enough to try and cut me up.
I wonder if I'll make it to the menopause?
joella
1 comment:
But will you be there to booze with Stevie? Still in negotiations with the parentals over potential October trip, so hope to share a fish bap with you around then xxx
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