The gentleman plumber

Just to continue my observations on the excellence of the service sector I feel that I must sing the praises of my plumber, Errol. This man is not only a brilliant plumber able to do all kinds of things from putting in new boiler to removing the most horrendous huge great birdnests lump of hair from the bathroom plug hole without a murmur of disgust. He is also a man who, in an emergency, is always prepared to rush around and sort out the problem - this was most noticeable when I, on a Sunday night, was hanging up a photograph and hammered a nail right into the centre of a foolishly placed hot water pipe. The water burst out in a thin stream right into my eye, I put my finger over the hole, but the water still flooded out under the wall paper forming a giant bubble of increasingly hot water! We had to drain the hot water system (actually this entailed just putting all the hot water taps on), turn off the mains in the street, and then rely upon our kind neighbours to bring us water to clean our teeth and fill the kettle etc. Errol then turned up first thing on Monday morning, and after a brief chuckle - he said he had heard about people hammering a nail in to a pipe but had never experienced it himself in his long career, and I had hit it dead centre, and the pipe was only half an inch wide - sorted out the problem immediately.

Still this does not make him a gentleman I hear you cry. That is true. This is how he manifested his talent as a gentleman. When he came round the other day (two days later than agreed - it was not an emergency, it was the hair blockage problem) he rang the door bell at some early hour and I was downstairs in the kitchen having got up but crucially only so far as to put on a dressing gown and make a cup of tea. Our house is made so that if you are in the kitchen you cannot get past the door and upstairs to put on some clothes without being visible from the front door (it is glass, though opaque). Knowing this, I decided I would have to be brave, and I answered the door to Errol, asked him how he was, explained the problem, led him upstairs to the bathroom to carry out his task all only clad in my dressing gown, which although not see-through is definitely only a wrap around dressing gown and I had bare feet. Anyway during all this Errol simply did not notice my attire, or lack of it. You may say that this is because I a woman of a certain age and no longer able to lay claim to the 'babe' category to which I might once have claimed to belong, but I say to you, no, it is because he is a gentleman.

I think therefore I will put Errol on my jewel scale, and I shall designate him a diamond for not only his skills as a plumber but his gentelmanliness. Rock on Errol, you have been tested and you have passed with honours........