Khazi kapers......

Having finally stopped procrastinating, I book a plumber to replace my cringeworthy downstairs loo, as time is running out.... I don't mean that the world is coming to an end, simply that No. 2 sprog is coming to stay with me for a few days to get some TLC whilst recovering from her arthroscopy. She will be somewhat incapacitated, so will have to use the downstairs bog during the day, rather than run the risk of kebabbing herself with her crutches if she falls down the stairs!

Using the same company that produced The Lovely Marcus in previous times of crisis, a Lovely Duncan appears promptly on my doorstep to Suss Out The Job. Friendly but professional, he whips me into a frenzy of excitement over porcelain pans, ceramic cisterns and talk of close coupling........ then teasingly leaves me breathless, to ponder his measurements. Like all true gentlemen, he courteously rings the next day to arrange another date, and still aglow after our previous encounter, I eagerly anticipate his next visit........

The day of reckoning arrives, as does Duncan, punctual as ever, and I entrust him with a key: alas, I have to go to work, leaving him to do what he will with my plumbing. He assures me that he will take care of my moggy and promises not to let her escape the confines of the house until I return. Despite the knowledge that he himself has cats, I worry all day that my feline Houdini will outsmart him whilst he is concentrating on my U-bend and it is with some degree of trepidation that I return home after work to inspect the sanitation situation......

I need not have fretted: the cat is still indoors, as is evidenced by the small furry torpedo which launches out of the front door as I let myself in, and after letting the Lovely Duncan have the run of my home, all appears to be as it should be. No dirty coffee cups in the sink (other than the weeks' worth that I'd left already) and no mess anywhere. I begin to wonder if he'd actually BEEN, excuse the pun..... However, peering into the downstairs khazi to check for evidence of his handiwork, I find a pristine piece of porcelain standing regally to attention like a virginal throne - which indeed it is! I duly admire the gleaming beast and go to inspect the dreaded invoice, which curiously has a PS. Duncan has left me a billet doux - with instructions on How To Use Your New Loo...... On closer inspection, I understand why. Apparently, the flush has a hair trigger, and should inquisitive moggy clamber onto the cistern, there is every chance that she could flush herself down the pan! I hastily lower the lid to prevent such a watery end for said feline.

Delighted with the service that Duncan has performed, and impressed with his clean habits, (he even hoovered up after himself!) I immediately write a reply to his note - albeit in the form of a cheque - and send it post-haste to his company. I note that sadly, he left my key behind, so I assume our relationship is at an end and that I must find other gentlemen to entertain me.......

.......Until I read his PPS on the back of the invoice. Is it his phone number? An invitation to dinner? A promise to take me away from all this and show me things I've never even dreamed of?

No...... but my taps need changing! Grinning sappily, I reach for the phone...........