Well, not toxic, exactly... maybe just a little bit rank. But in a nice way. With a garnish.

Monday, January 16, 2006

making holes

Today is job-day.

I have a list of things to do: put up some shelves, put up some hooks, paint the upstairs landing, insulate the floorboards, put tyres on Imp’s bike, put up some candle-holders, box out a recess, chop wood, put up curtain rails.

I like doing jobs… especially those that involve power tools.
I also like using power tools and impressing Imp with my power-tool-abilities. Today is going to be a triumph of powertoolness.

I decide to start upstairs and work down.
The most upstairs of the jobs is to put up some coat hooks.
This will be a nice easy job because the bloke who lived here before had already put them up… but he didn’t put Rawl Plugs in so they fell out.

Easy-peasy. Re-drill the holes, pop some plugs in, screw the hooks to the wall. 30-second job.
Whistling cockily and jauntily assuming that 'don’t-mess-with-me' drill stance I whizz the trigger and grin.
I love power tools.

The drill hits something hard. Harder than wall.

I remember I haven’t got a cable detector and worry that I might drill into an electric cable.
I like drilling but I don’t like dying. Or at least, not as far as I know.

I check the other side of the wall.

There’s a shower there. I don’t want to drill into the shower.

I go downstairs.


Putting up shelves.
There are 2 of them.. the third is already up.

I balance on the step ladder and blast away at the wall with the hammer-drill. It’s easy for about 4mm and then I hit something hard.

Bastard wall.
There is ABSOLUTELY no way I’m giving up on this job. I push a bit harder.

The drill is starting to smell alarmingly hot.

Suddenly it lurches forward through whatever it is that is hard and, driven by my bodyweight the drill bit and the bit-holder punch a hole into the wall.
A hole the size of a 10 pence piece.


It’s going to take quite a few matchsticks to pack that hole.

Checking quickly that no one has seen, I give up and head toward the kitchen in search of coffee.


  • At January 16, 2006 6:07 pm, Blogger Sniffy said…

    I don't like power tools: things of beauty they may be, but holding one that's plugged and ready to go induces a pounding heart and a cold sweat.

    I onec tried to drill a hole into the wall in this very room. The hole needed to be positioned in the wall next the main outlet pipe from the gas meter up to the central heating boiler. As I drilled away (heart pounding, sweating), the plaster gave way, the drill lurched forward (snapping the bit) and scraped along the gas pipe. COuld've been interesting.

    It turned out that the slack bastards who put the gas inlet pipe in from the mains just filled the hole around it with screwed up newspaper then plastered over it. Hence: medium-resistance plaster; zero-resistance Daily Mirror ca 1976; very high-resistance brick.


  • At January 16, 2006 7:03 pm, Blogger Imogen said…

    I don't like power tools either- I'm far more of a Wait Til Someone Else Does It useless sort of girl, rather than a DIY one.
    Plus, the one time I tried to use a drill I caught my sleeve in it and managed to get pinned to the wall..

  • At January 16, 2006 7:08 pm, Blogger funny thing said…

    Heh heh! more drill stories, please - these are hilarious.

    It's amazing we're all still here....

  • At January 16, 2006 8:25 pm, Blogger Kyahgirl said…

    :-) This is a hilarious post!!

    I like power tools too but I'd say my fave is not the drill but the sander.

    uh, sorry to hear about your wall by the way.

  • At January 16, 2006 8:48 pm, Blogger Wyndham said…

    I'm useless with powertools. I turn one one and the drill bit stays absolutely still while I spin like a Catherine Wheel.

  • At January 16, 2006 9:26 pm, Blogger funny thing said…

    Imp gave me a sander for Christmas. If she would let me take it to bed with me, I would.

    Wyndham, that's what hobnail boots are for. You nail your feet to the floor and dislocate your arms at the shoulders instead...

  • At January 16, 2006 9:57 pm, Blogger Fuckkit said…

    I'm banned from using power tools on account of my tendencies to don a hockey mask and threaten small children with them.

  • At January 16, 2006 10:07 pm, Blogger garfer said…

    Cor, that's dead butch.

    Do you wear a utility belt when power tooling?

  • At January 16, 2006 10:37 pm, Blogger funny thing said…

    No, I'm much too hard for that. I like to make things as difficult as possible..

  • At January 16, 2006 11:04 pm, Blogger S.I.D. said…

    Front window smashed.

    Trying to drill hole through for aerial.

    DIY? Tears I tell you.

  • At January 17, 2006 12:06 am, Blogger funny thing said…

    Next time try drilling through the wood. Little tip.

  • At January 17, 2006 8:47 am, Blogger The Gripes of Wrath said…

    One of my happiest memories was of my father drilling through an electric cable.

    Ahh, the sparks.. The smell of burning flesh...The twitching...

    (He survived, alas..)

    Me? I tend to make walls look like swiss cheese whenever I'm putting up shelves due to measuring things really badly (but then I hide the holes with books... Mrs Gripes will never know...*fingers crossed*)

  • At January 17, 2006 2:13 pm, Blogger truefactaday said…

    Diolch yn fawr for the comments on the sites...trying to get comments enabled on the FoI site but it's playing games at the moment...
    Afraid I have no power tool anecdotes to share having never used one.

  • At January 17, 2006 2:18 pm, Blogger funny thing said…

    Diolch yn fawr i ti, hefyd! Nice to hear from you, tfad.
    It's a great site though, I'll be sure to tell all the sad gits who visit this site about it. They need stuff to do while they're pretending to work, you see.
    Hwyl fawr...


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