Well, am afraid it's no good news.
The Roofer shook his head and tutted softly as he looked at me and then my garage roof.
He was a big guy, although it's not politically correct to say such things he was as fat as fuck. And very red, he looked like a big hessian bag full of minced beef with a hole at the top for his head.
Surely, in the business of fixing people's roofs which required actually getting on top of their roofs and walking about on them, it paid not to be obese?
I mean he was bound to cause some damage hauling that kind of weight about a roof?
Ah, of course. Perhaps that was the whole point.
I realised I was obviously dealing with a very fat but also very clever roofer.
Best approach this one with caution.
What exactly is the problem with it?
I asked carefully, in case he decided to drop and roll over me, smearing me to the driveway like salmon paste.
Beef-Roofer looked from side to side as if worried he would be overheard and then said in a regretful voice.
It's your wood. It's rotten. Needs tearing out.
He waved airily at the roof above us.
Frowning, I turned my head to the side and examined him as if he were a bag full of meat.
My wood was rotten? How fucking dare he? I wasn't having this.
Whit's rotten?
I said, my face gnarled up like a Frenchman eating a stale croissant.
Yer woods rotten.
Whit dae ye mean, rotten?
It's rotten. The timber, you know?
I took a step back. The timber?? What, were we in a forest now? Was he a lumberjack? Should I be looking out for a falling tree?
Although I doubted that very much, I snapped a sneaky look around in case a tree I was not aware of was even now plummeting down from the heavens to kill me.
Nothing. This man was blatantly full of shit.
Timber?
I made a mew face at even having to say the word.
Aye, the timber... the wood. You know, the wood on your roof is rotten. It needs torn out in places and replaced. It won't be cheap.
Beef-Roofer said, a hint of exasperation creeping into his tone.
You're saying my wood is rotten?
I said incredulously.
My wood? I mean, I had two kids. This man obviously had no idea. If the Good Lady heard him coming out with this nonsense she would be at him like a Doberman over a dried pig's ear.
Aye. It's ROTTEN??!
Beef-Roofer was getting annoyed by the looks of it. Then again he might just have been imagining he was getting fritters for tea, he had that kind of face.
Alright then. Say it is rotten. How much will it be to fix it?
Beef-Roofer calmed down almost immediately as he sensed himself back on a secure footing.
Yer talking about 3 thousand all in. That includes everything and a ten-year guarantee against further leaks. I can get my team out in two weeks. How does that sound?
He smiled, if it hadn't been the days of COVID he looked as if he would reach out to shake my hand.
Sounds alright. I will be in touch.
I smiled back too,
Be in touch... Ha, will I fuck.
