First - Happy Birthday, Tamara.
About three weeks ago I started thinking about half-term week, and little Barbara, and what I could find for her to do. I knew she was looking forward to coming to work again because her mother told me so. There wouldn't be any trouble getting permission since I'd done it twice all ready, as long as I could guarantee her safety. The only difficulty was finding something new for her to do, that she
could do, and that would be safe. It's not as if she can mix concrete, or climb up scaffolding to lay roofing slate, or to lay bricks. She's a bright kid, but she is still a kid.
I was chatting, over coffee-break, with a couple of the lads from my team, who actually knew who she was, when one came up with a suggestion. Quick description of the site - large chunks of it are finished, people are living in the houses, some of the crews have packed up and left, some new ones have started. There are loads of workers of one sort or another on the site - most of whom I don't know and who don't know me, let alone Barbara. We keep to our work-gangs. My little section contains workmates who do know her.
Anyway - one of the tilers asked if I knew how to tile. I said that I did but I wasn't the world's best, though I could produce a decent finish that would pass inspection, I'd just take a lot longer to do it than he would. He said that he'd got some tiling she could do. Knowing the size of tiles we use - and how sharp they are when cut, and how they can shatter into some bloody vicious shards, I expressed doubts. He said that there was no cutting involved because it was a straight line - corner to corner on only one wall. And the tiles were very small, decorative, infill pieces, not full tiles. I knew the kind of thing he meant - and it was perfect.
So this morning, after coffee break, little Barbara, kitted out in her bib-and-brace overalls and little plastic hard-hat, was delivered to the site by her mother. I wore my
Bob the Builder t-shirt (over a sweatshirt coz it was bloody cold this morning).
And Barbara learnt to tile. Boy can a little kid get messy when they're mixing tile fixative, and spreading it on tile pieces, and then grouting the tiles. (Mind you - this big kid gets pretty messy too *g*). She learnt how to space the tiles properly, and how to get just the right amount of fixative on them so that they're level when you press them against the wall.
And at lunch time she sat beside me on the bench and ate her sandwich and talked nineteen-to-the-dozen Before returning to work.
She did a pretty decent job of it. We took photos for her album as usual. And of course she got her
Trainee Tiler's Mate certificate. And an extra from the tile gang-master (bloody big soft bugger!! he's got kids of his own not much older than she is) - he brought her a little wooden picture frame with a piece of the tile stuck dead centre, and her name and the date on a little label beneath.
I thought she would burst she was so proud.
Her mother picked her up halfway through the afternoon. She brought a tin of toffees for the lads as a thank you present. You wouldn't think that five grown men - construction workers at that - could look so bashful. I half expected them to shuffle their feet!!
We could hear Barbara telling her mum all about it - for a good 500 metres - as she skipped away, clutching her treasures.
She's a good kid.
See you next week. Goodnight and may your God/s go with you.
Ze
