Angel delight

Dismantling the pub is quite the task but, being a somewhat pig-headed kind of person, I'd assured everyone I could do the bulk of the work alone

Peter Edgerton

Thursday, 27 February 2025, 13:42

Should anyone mention guardian angels to you, an image of a glorious winged being, bathed in celestial light, may come to your mind. You are, I think, unlikely to picture a squat middle-aged Mexican chap sporting the style of moustache last seen on all 1970s third division football centre-halves. Imagine my surprise, then, when yesterday I was fortunate enough to be greeted by just such an apparition.

Dismantling the pub is quite the task but, being a somewhat pig-headed kind of person, I'd assured everyone I could do the bulk of the work alone and would bother people only if strictly necessary. I had two weeks to get it all done, after all. What could possibly go wrong?

By the third day I was convinced that some strange, alien force was bringing two items into the room for every one I was removing. No matter how hard I worked, I seemed to be going backwards. This called for radical action. So I sat down, poured myself a pint and tried to devise a plan. Four drinks later everything seemed possible again. Next morning it didn't. My main plan now was to fall to my knees among the debris, weeping like Muhammed XII when he lost Granada, and thus the kingdom of Spain to Ferdinand and Isabella in 1492. (As his tears flowed, his mother is believed to have hurled her sandals at him and said "You do well to weep like a woman, for what you couldn't defend like a man," which, I think we can agree, was probably a touch harsh).

Anyway, where was I? Ah yes, in a room full of pub stuff, bottom lip a-quivering. And that was when he appeared in the doorway, this erstwhile customer, the silhouette of a gunslinger, armed with all manner of work tools.

"I told you I'd help. What's first?"

The next five hours was a blur of activity as David moved around the room with the focus of an assassin and the grace of a dancer. Window panes were removed, electrics summarily curtailed, heavy duty shelving dismantled and sundry other jobs accomplished with extraordinary aplomb. I tried to help but just got in the way I think. Occasionally beautiful women would pass by and cast admiring glances at David before tutting and rolling their eyes at me . Or that may have been my imagination, I'm not sure.

By the time he'd finished the place looked like someone had actually been working there, rather than the result a futile exercise in random furniture rearrangement which had been my best effort. He blew on the end of his electric drill and put it back in it's holster.

"We'll take the air-conditioning down tomorrow."

I thought the 'we' was a trifle optimistic to be honest but didn't mention it, thanked him profusely and watched him disappear over the horizon heading back to the ranch where he must surely live for some bacon and beans.

An angel indeed.

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