When Ian said he was having a 'night on the tiles', I assumed that he meant he’d be down the pubs and clubs of Swanage getting ‘smashed off his face’ on cheap cider, before rocking up at the kebab shop for some chips and a good loud singsong walking home up the high street. (..isn’t that what young people do nowadays?)
So imagine my shock when I found him at the coastguard station last night tiling the wall behind the sink.
The tiles went on pretty straight which is always disappointing as neither I, nor Austen, could stand there saying ‘ooooh I wouldn’t have done it like that!’.
Instead we had to concede they were properly laid. So instead we gave him a load of good natured abuse about other stuff.
Next week he’s going to put up a dado rail in the training room, with hand cut mitre joints.
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