I had a phone call this morning from the daughter of one of my custards, asking me to price up her windows.
She gave me directions, and after finishing today at 5pm, I drove over to have a look.
The house is situated about 6 miles out of town, meaning it is in the middle of nowhere. I became a little unsure as to whether I was on the right road. It fitted the description, but the house (described as a dormer bungalow in the middle of a group of three) didn't.
I got out of the van and walked towards the house anyway. Before I reached the front door, a little old farmer type came out and walked towards me.
'Hello', says I, smiling. 'I am not sure if I am at the right place, I wonder if you could help me....'
'Get away or I will call the gardee ' (police in English) replies farmer type gruffly in a broad Irish farmer's accent .
I wasn't sure I heard him correctly, but when he repeated the demand, ever so slightly more menacingly, the penny (or cent, such is the currency here) dropped. I smiled again, cheerily said 'OK. Sorry to have bothered you', and went on my merry way.
I found the right house a couple of hundred yards further up the road, was invited in, had a tea and a nice chat, and got the job, a nice little 50 euro inside and out jobby booked in for next week.
Just thought I'd share that with you guys.
John