Anyone in his right mind would think that the offer by a dutiful husband to do some renovation work around the house would be met with enthusiasm by his wife. This, however, was not true in the case of George volunteering to refurbish the downstairs bathroom.

Over the years, Felicity has become a tad jaundiced about George’s handyman activities. “He gets his carpentry inspirations from the Red Green Show,” she’s liable to say. “And he’s inclined to get everyone and their grannies involved.”

Way back, when the kids had left home and gone about their own lives, Fliss had taken up painting in oils and water-colours. She did quite well and even had her work framed on occasion and admired by many. Unfortunately, she’d been forced to work in the kitchen and on the dining-room table whilst less significant business like cooking got set aside.

George, although happy to prepare a meal over a camp-fire, could wreck a meal in a proper kitchen and even get charcoal into the scrambled eggs over an electric stove and so he volunteered to create an art room in one of the kids’ unused bedrooms.

He went to work with a sort of manic enthusiasm on a wet day but, needless to say, made no real plans. He just charged ahead, pulled up the overly-worn carpet, discovered underneath some linoleum of indeterminate age and so, undeterred, hauled this up too. He then considered his options.

Fliss wasn’t too happy when he suggested that the bare ply-wood floor was suffice for a mere art-room but George vacillated long enough for her to get bored with the arguments.

George then went ahead with the re-paint job. He tried to fill in the numerous holes in the walls then painted them over quickly. He used some left-over latex from years before which was, needless to say, a bit like George and not in prime condition.

Felicity had asked for a stippled effect on the ceiling and, “Please, George. Not straight white. How about a touch of puce?”

Of course, like any real man, George had absolutely no idea what puce was. He felt it might be like puke and so, when his wife took off for an extended visit with her sister, he went to work with the off-white stippling and this, due to the advent of a couple of cronies who hauled George’s almost unwilling body off for a few days fishing on Kootenay Lake, ended up looking like the inside of an ugly limestone cave, stalactites and all.

Our odd job-man then proceeded to dismantle the unused work-bench from the garage, where it was leaning on uneven ground and hauled it indoors. Fliss felt that it might be a tad too high for her purposes so George borrowed a skil-saw and whacked off the bench’s legs, which, unfortunately, he couldn’t quite make attain equal heights. After an inordinate amount of bad language on George’s part, the bench ended up lower than Fliss had anticipated and still wobbly.

Our odd-job man called on his friends and borrowed quite a few more tools for the job and, when she was home for a weekend, he sent their daughter off downtown to the hardware store for some more staples and a new skil-saw to replace Fred’s one that he’d managed to ruin by severing the extension cord. In fact, George managed to keep quite a few folk on their toes during the construction of that art-room.

For years after George’s efforts, Fliss refused to take visitors into that room. She’d haul out her artistic efforts if friends insisted on seeing them but kept the door firmly shut. “It’s a bit messy,” she’d say.

Later, having been married to George for so many years, Felicity became more blasé about that room and even invited folk in for brief visits. Somewhat sarcasticly, she’d insist that all that ventured into the cavern, as she’d labelled it, don coveralls and a miner’s helmet, complete with head-lamp.

They hired another fellow to refurbish the down-stairs bathroom and, strangely, George was not offended.