In six years no one has had a go like this.
I turn up at house, and get on with doing the tops. First side I do has a car in front of it, and when I dropped the pole to do the bottoms and went closer to the kitchen door only to find a pair of fancy women's shoes - wet, of course, because water falls from above, not unlike rain. Ok, I've seen shoes outside before, but usually because the owner has mud on them or they trod in dog excrement. I picked them up, shook them a bit and moved them to one side. I mean, it'd been raining all morning, hadn't it?
Got around the other side of the house, and bear in mind I have my iPod in and Led Zeppelin playing, I could just about hear... loud banging on the patio window...
I stop and see this monster of a woman struggling and fuming to open the doors, and when she does - gives me both barrels for getting the shoes wet. Well, it wasn't deliberate, I said, but she just bangs on about it, and about how she has to go to a funeral that afternoon in them (shame it wasn't hers, I thought, but didn't say that). Oh dear oh dear, this was not a pleasant sight.
Imagine a footballer's wife. Now imagine one of her friend's friend's mate from down the pub..... plenty of bling, just nicely overstated to make this poor creature look even more ridiculous for all the ranting. Chuck in a 'personalised' number plated VW on the drive to give you some idea of the picture.
Was this a customer? Nope. I have no idea who the feck she was. It's the sort of house where each time you turn up there seems to everyone there except the owner. Kids I don't recognise from one time to another. It's like they are all old school mates who can't say goodbye and move on in their shop-centred lives and settle down and be 'normal', whatever that means.
Made my exit pretty quickly.
Hope she had a miserable time at the funeral.