So, when my parents on my mother’s side came up on Sunday, they brought with them a belated birthday present: a big box of tools! Now, that was pretty cool of them, I must admit. My stepfather has access to a lot of tools in his line of work but still, he loves tools like his babies, so for him to give me some is quite a gift really, very heartfelt.

I now have lots of spanners, sockets, baby screwdrivers, insulated screwdrivers (for electric work), a multimeter, a little laser thingy for measuring distances, all manner of allen keys, a hammer, chisels, side cutters, a wire stripper, stuff for mending drains, the list goes on. This is something that’s surprisingly close to my heart: my father was always taking things apart, tinkering with his shit old car, fixing his shit old house and Freud would say I’m keen to be able to do all that sort of “manly” stuff too.

Anyway, I called my parents on my father’s side tonight since it was Jane’s birthday (she turned 10 I think). I woke her up (serves me right for calling so late but I was working late). My father, upon hearing that I got a box full of tools for my birthday said: “That’s funny, it’s kind of like giving a blind man binoculars, isn’t it?”


Ok, ok, he meant it as a joke and I can see how it could be really funny. The idea of me drilling holes into walls, taking apart the engine of a car or doing anything that might require any sort of mechanical prowess is probably quite hilarious. But still, ouch, Dad.