|(Lawn has since lost the yellow colour, it is now off-white)|
I HAVE A NEW GARDENER.
I have a new gardener. Not permanent, one that I can call in when the big bushes need a trim. He is part of a bigger company but lives near. The guy, together with a colleague, did everything: cut back bushes (and there are a lot), cleared overgrown paths that were full of weeds, even swept up afterwards. There was a list of things he will and can do on the big van and one was ‘jet wash patios and driveways. Ok, you’ve guessed right. I booked him to clean the drive.
This guy (Pete) is a whiz at punctuality. If he says one o’clock, he arrives five minutes before so that he actually rings my bell at one o’clock etc. He meticulously writes everything on his notepad so that he knows exactly where he should be at any given time. A man after my own heart since I’m a stickler for punctuality.
When I had the drive cleaned before the workmen had tanks of water on their wagon but this time Pete relied on me to supply it. Well, he’s mainly a gardener. His wagon is loaded with machinery, no room for water! Not to worry, he said as he tried to lock a hose to the garden taps. That was the first hiccup; he tried another, and another, and then he went out to buy a new fitment for his hosepipe. That didn’t work, either. On investigation, another tap wouldn’t budge. ‘You’ll have to get a plumber to deal with it,’ he says.
That was yesterday. I don’t know whether it was my pleading voice that did it but the plumber came straight away and unjammed the tap. Of course, I sent a text (getting good at that) to the gardener who responded immediately with ‘Will Monday be okay?’
Of course it would.
How about that for service? And patience?