To my delight, there were some big enough, and I'd just started to lift them when it started to rain. Not just any old rain, but M&S rain, the type that marinates and saturates you to the skin.
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| The leeks, on a sunny day. |
In the shed is a folding canvas chair, not just any old...........no I won’t do it again, I promise........so I decided to sit it out. But I hadn’t noticed the chair was wet, from one of a few leaks that have recently appeared in the shed roof, that I haven't got round to fixing.
All was well for while, and I entertained myself watching others scurrying around the site, who haven’t got sheds, get thoroughly soaked. They are cheap enough at B&Q after all, so it serves them right, skinflints!
Then slowly an awareness of dampness crept in down below, as the wetness from the chair infused the three layers of clothing I had on, right through to underpants. I’d given up going commando a while ago, after the thistle incident, but that’s another story.
For a moment I seriously thought I’d reached that age we all dread, until I realised what had happened, and with a sigh of relief ventured out, seeing as the rain was stopping, to carry on what I was doing.
Very soon however, the increasing discomfort forced me to pack in and head home before a testicular form of trenchfoot set in, trenchcrutch I think it’s called.
“Have you got any leeks then ?”, she asked, as I entered the kitchen, walking like the geriatric incontinent I thought I’d become earlier.
“Leeks? Oh I’ve got leaks alright”, I said, “ Loads of ‘em, in that bloody shed roof !”.
P.S.
I was reminded of this incident the other day, when I spotted these in the local supermarket. Don't know how you would use them, but it's enough to bring tears to a man's eyes just thinking about it !
