27th January. Fun With Asbestos Fibre
"Aaaach! ah jist canna be fuckin' ersed wi' it the day" opined the older Wegie, surrounded by enough pipework to account for the last 6 months of Zambia's copper output. "An' jist me ma fuckin' sel' !" as evidenced by the absence of the younger plumber. "The next cunt that comes roond askin' wan the b'iler's gonnae be turn'd on ahm gonnae tell them ah'll be workin' slower from noo on! Besides ye cannae turn the b'iler on withoot a fuckin' chimney eh Big Man?" Quite. My main concern now that there are less skulls to hit are: a) ruining another flue section and having to spend another £95 and drive to Glenrothes again, b) falling through the roof (this roof will not support your weight use crawling boards) c) drilling holes in asbestos. Course it's only a couple of holes and you don't know how long you're going to live anyway it can take years for symptoms to show and I'll hold my breath. As for the older Wegie I know he's already had cancer so it's not going to matter too much.
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2 comments:
Ha, I really liked your comment. The angst is back but maybe not as much as before. Maybe one day if I ever truly become happy (what is true happiness anyway?)I might stop writing. I don't know, probably not. I do like to look back and read about the good times because it helps me to remember them.
I've demolished some asbestos and shovelled it up and breathed the dust and am waiting for the cough-cough and it's been ten years. I will let you know.
Malcolm McLaren apparently got his meso' from doing the same at the punk boutique he had in the 1970's
Risk, outcome, and probability.
cheers
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