Man, what a day! I woke up in Iver, UK, and thought, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it wasn’t.
First off, I’m a carpenter, right? So, I’m all about wood, nails, and the sweet smell of sawdust. I grab my tools and head out. I’m walking down High Street, and it’s like a scene from a movie. The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m thinking, “This is it, mate!” But then, bam! A pigeon poops on my shoulder. Seriously? I’m like, “Great start, just great.”
So, I shake it off and keep going. I’m heading to this job on Thorney Lane. Nice little house, but the owner, bless her, is a bit of a handful. She’s got this vision, right? “I want an open-plan kitchen, but with a rustic vibe.” I’m like, “Lady, rustic is my middle name!” But inside, I’m thinking, “What even is a rustic vibe?”
Anyway, I get to work. I’m measuring, cutting, and trying not to lose my mind. Then, outta nowhere, her cat, Mr. Whiskers, decides my toolbox is a playground. I’m dodging this furry tornado while trying to keep my sanity. I swear, that cat’s got a death wish.
Then, the doorbell rings. It’s her mate, and she’s got a million questions. “What’s the wood type? How long will it take? Can you make it look like a Pinterest board?” I’m like, “Lady, I’m a carpenter, not a magician!”
After a few hours of chaos, I finally get the frame up. I step back, and it looks decent. I’m feeling proud, ya know? But then, I realize I’ve used the wrong screws. Ugh! I could’ve screamed. I mean, who even knew there were different types of screws?
So, I’m off to the hardware store on Iver’s main drag. It’s a small place, but they’ve got everything. I’m in there, frantically searching for the right screws. I bump into old Mr. Jenkins. He’s a legend around here. Always got a story. “Back in my day, we used nails, not these fancy screws!” I’m like, “Yeah, but I’m not building a time machine, mate.”
Finally, I grab the screws and head back. I’m racing against time. I get back to the house, and the owner’s there, looking at me like I’m a madman. I’m sweating, covered in sawdust, and I’m like, “Just a minor setback!”
I fix the screw situation, and it’s looking good. I’m feeling like a champ. But then, the power goes out. Just my luck, right? I’m standing there in the dark, thinking, “What’s next? A zombie apocalypse?”
But then, the owner pulls out candles. We’re sitting there, in the glow of candlelight, and she starts telling me about Iver’s history. Did you know Iver used to be a market town? I’m like, “No way!” She’s going on about the old railway and how it shaped the town. I’m actually interested. Who knew carpentry could lead to a history lesson?
After a while, the power comes back. I finish up, and it looks fab. She’s thrilled, and I’m like, “Phew, I survived!” I pack up my tools, and as I’m leaving, she hands me a slice of her homemade cake. I’m like, “You’re a legend!”
So, I’m walking home, feeling all accomplished. I pass by the Iver Village Hall, and there’s a little fair going on. I stop for a sec, grab a burger, and just chill. The smell of fried food is heavenly.
As I’m munching, I think about the day. It was a rollercoaster, for sure. From pigeon poop to power outages, it was wild. But I love this town. Iver’s got character, ya know?
I finally get home, exhausted but happy. I plop down on the couch, and I’m like, “What a day!” I wouldn’t trade it for anything. Iver, you crazy little town, you’ve got my heart.