Against the wall

Face sculpture embedded in wall in Cuba
Face sculpture embedded in wall in Cuba (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

In my home life I am between a rock and a hard place and my face is up against the wall. Sometimes I feel like bashing my head on that wall too out of sheer frustration. It is all to do with my ex who is completely indifferent to what is going on between us. I shall say no more on the subject save to say that I am fed up with it all. Speaking about having my face up against the wall, that has been exactly the case these last three days (I write this on Tuesday). All the electrical work I have had at each of the three separate locations I have worked in all involved wall lights, either re-fixing them to the wall or in some cases repairing them beforehand too. I am not complaining. I was paid well for my efforts. The first house I visited on Monday morning was in response to a call from an old lady of 83 who didn’t know where to begin in explaining the problems she wanted me to help solve for her. After a few minutes I managed to get her to tell me her address so that I could pay her a visit. Her house is located about 8 miles away in the township where I once lived. She was actually waiting at her front door for my arrival and when I approached the door she was overjoyed. She reached out her hand to take mine and gently squeezed it like I was a long-lost friend. She was so excited that I was there and she took some time to settle down. She insisted I sit down and have a coffee, which I did, and she began to tell me about her problems. Nothing was said about the electrical work. She explained the problem she was having trying to clear away and remove what must have been tons of paper in the form of magazines, newspapers, files and other things from her house. Coupled with that she had other things to remove too. All this material had been collected by her husband who had hoarded it in their home. Now that was only part of the story. She and her husband had been married for 60 years but it seems that he had recently decided to become a recluse in his own home, locking himself in the front lounge with its curtains drawn closed, a gas fire and lights left on during the day. All he did each day was to sit in the room reading or watching television. He refused to help his wife and wanted no part or showed no interest in her at all or what she was going through. She really needs professional help, they need professional help for something had gone drastically wrong between them. She however was the one suffering. He was completely disinterested. I met him not long after I had completed the work I had done there and he came across as a completely normal and level-headed person. He had only left the room in order to visit the toilet and after speaking with me he returned to the room and closed the door behind him. The work I was doing involved re-fixing walls lights and making the connections safe. One set of lights had to be disconnected for the old rubber insulation on the wiring had perished. It was wired in metal tubing and could not be accessed. I disconnected the wiring behind the control switches and cut it out so that it could never be used again. Other wiring behind those switches was PVC coated so it appears the rubber wiring was not replaced when last the wiring had been replaced. It took me some time to get away from the house once the work had been done for the lady was reluctant for me to leave. The second job was on Monday afternoon and that too involved wall lights, old wall lights that needed repairing and re-fixing to the walls. The lady in that house was a widow for whom I had worked on previous occasions and who for some reason has taken to me. On Tuesday morning I had yet another job involving faulty and loose wall lights in an apartment on the other side of town. That too was a lady who simply wanted a female electrician rather than have a man do it for in her words, they just don’t turn up! So I don’t mind working on wall lights, the work pays just as well and I am used to being up against the wall.

Shirley Anne