A frantic knocking on the door of No.7. It was Tuesday morning. My mum answered it and the plasterer was standing outside. He'd gone out to his van and the door to the house had slammed shut behind him. The keys were inside. And also a full bucket of plaster that he'd just mixed.
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| Bucket of Plaster Under Threat! |
Did I have a key? He needed to get back in before the plaster went off. I didn't. But the Estate Agent did. I ran to the High Street, burst into the office. The plasterers locked himself out and his plaster's at risk, I cried, have you got a key? M, the estate agent, coolly picked up a bunch from his desk (how did he know and why were they there?) and handed them to me. Thanks, I cried and ran off. A bucket of plaster saved.
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| Plasterer Back Inside - Phew! |
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