Flip through the latest issue of Gulf Weekly.
This week I'm going to reveal a little secret, surprisingly, I'm not much of a handyman! This little revelation has made itself a whole lot more obvious since our recent house move, the first in more than six years and our only move as a family.
When you move to a new place you naturally want to put your stamp of individuality into it. That is after you've stopped bickering and moaning about who was - and wasn't - pulling their weight.
Usually people will start to decorate, paint and fastidiously put up the photos and pictures that one accumulates when part of a family.
Well, we're no different. But, whilst I write this article I'm finding it increasingly hard to concentrate. You see, there is a sporadic and quite deafening noise coming from the general direction of the lounge area. And guess who's making this clamour? It's my wife Wendy, a most credible handywoman, as she drills into the walls to put up our pictures. (Please don't tell the landlord).
You see, our walls are made of concrete; hammering in a few picture hooks is impossible so it's lucky she's a dab hand with a hammer drill.
When I started seeing Wendy one thing that startled me was her collection of drills! Actually, it was just a drill and a couple of sanders, but I couldn't tell the difference. I wouldn't know one end of a drill from the other.
But my Wendy has come from a long line of creative, talented people. Her dad Terry is a master builder and her mum Maggie is a quilter of some renown. So, Wendy has naturally got "do it yourself genes" entrenched in her being. In factm Wendy does all the 'jobs' about the house, everything from changing taps to unblocking drains.
Our daughter Hannah thinks nothing's unusual about this and we had a good giggle the other day when she was helping her mum and asked "Why don't drills come in pink?" It's a brilliant idea and will probably make someone out there rich.
Apparently, the family building mania is to be cultivated; Hannah's grandad bought a kid's tool kit for her last Christmas.
I thought it would be shoved to the corner as she really loves dolls and other such 'girly' stuff too. But to my surprise (and Wendy's delight) she immediately set forth banging and hammering all over the place.
It brought back dim and dusty childhood memories of when I was in woodwork class at school at around seven years of age and made what I considered was a beautiful bowl.
My dad looked at it with curiosity and genuinely wondered what it was, then used it for years as an ashtray!
My attempts at the 'manual arts' have never improved. I have just never been into DIY. Quite honestly, I am useless at making things and have always had people around me who can do a much better job than me. This probably has made me a great delegator of jobs, or, as my dad would have said, a lazy monkey! Wendy is also my personal gardener, chef and very good mate!
She's also a very dedicated mummy and over the last week or so Hannah has been pestering us to have a party for her friends at our new home.
She said she wanted pass the parcel and musical chairs. For kids of her age birthday parties are the most important and exciting thing in the world. So, not wanting to rain on her parade, or set ourselves up for a perpetual party dilemma, we said let's make it's a welcome party to your friends and not a birthday party.
The idea ballooned and we remembered the Alice in Wonderland play we went to see a few weeks ago at St. Christopher's School. We all enjoyed the "very merry Un-Birthday party" thrown by the Mad Hatter. The Mad Hatter explained that you have one birthday a year but you can have 364 Un-Birthday parties every year!
What absolute genius! A un-birthday party it was. We bought a cake from Alosra and a heap of sprinkles, smarties and chocolate drops for the kids to decorate their own slice of 'un-birthday cake'. Then, they chose a candle each to put on top. I lit them, and everyone blew out their own candle as the grown-ups sang "happy un-birthday to you". Then we all pigged out on an extremely over-decorated cake. The ants had a feast and we are still finding sprinkles all over the house days later, but it was worth it ... so long as we don't end up doing it every weekend.
Keep laughing, keep singing and a very happy un-birthday to you, unless, of course, it is in fact actually your birthday.
Krazy Kevin
