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Molly's Boy
Down The Long Road
London Sea
Excerpt 5
We went out of our patch to do a job in the Ealing area. It was small semi-detached and to Charlie and his ever trying fitting mate it should have been at the most a days work. They were an Indian family and they were really pleased to have a nicely floral patterned shag piled carpet going down and they were following us around not really checking on the work more a matter of being totally involved in the beautifying of their home. Charlie was aware of this and I could see that little glimmer of red beginning to form at the back of his ears, which was a warning of impending storms. We were laying the carpet on the stairs; Charlie fixing the carpet from the top and I dutifully handing him his tacks and knife and scissors. Behind me came the whole Indian family, father, mother, a series of children and at the back an aged but very inquisitive grandmother. Suddenly Charlie exploded into a raging tornado and shouted this is no bloody conga, screamed gather up the tools Liam and in what seemed like seconds was packing everything into the back of the van. The whole family beseeched and implored and whereas I tried to pass glances of condolences I knew only too well that I could just as easily been the butt of Charlie's wrath.
Charlie drove madly back towards Earls Court muttering darkly that nobody doubted his craftsmanship. Yet the next day we went back there again and with much proffering of tea and platitudes this time the family kept out of the way and the job was completed. On occasions we went to a hired mews garage in Victoria where we used to stitch up some Wilton carpet on our quiet fitting days. There I was taught the art of stitching carpet, which involved a large needle, and very strong thread and each stitch had to be a certain distance apart. Ernie an old lag was the genial host in that workshop and after his many years in prison he was as exact and fast as a seamstress in the Queen's boudoir. He explained to me with great gentleness and humour the tasks involved and regaled me with stories of his time at her majesty's pleasure and some nefarious jobs outside. He was missing his main stitching finger and he explained that he had cut it off in prison in a fit of pique to avoid sewing the endless mailbags that had to be done. It did not limit his style or speed; he had adapted and still was a brilliant stitcher. Charlie and me and were coming to our final crossroads. I was finding it difficult to handle his ever present explosions of rage and no matter how hard I tried my work was not coming up to his perfection standards. We drifted apart like friends who could not find the key of being with each other.
Never mind, I thought there are other carpet firms in the London Sea. There was a large family run concern called Emerald carpets on the Goldhawk road and I gave them a ring and was immediately taken on. I told them of my experience with Charlie and glossed over my accomplishments a little. They supplied me with all the proper tools, with knee pumper and Stanley knives and scissors and all manner of bobs and gadgets. I was even given a real low slung bag to put all my tools into and I felt like a genuine one hundred per cent carpet fitter's mate. I was able to drive in London for a while on my Irish licience and this was useful to the company as I was placed with an experienced fitter called Joey from Shepherd's Bush and we often went out on jobs together. We were sent down to Cambridge to lay a carpet and I was fascinated by the scholarly atmosphere with all the bicycles whirring around carrying figures hurriedly hunched over with flowing gowns. Everybody appeared to have a definite and exciting purpose and the grandeur and style of the town's architecture added to their distinction.
We drove up to a small terraced house and met this charming professor type who explained to Joey that he wanted the new carpet to be put down on top of the old one. Joey had heard a lot of peculiar requests before but this stirred his grey matter to the edge. He told the learned one that this was very unusual and against most rules in the carpet fitter's manual. He would not recommend it; indeed he was totally opposed to the whole idea. The professor insisted and Joey told me to get started and we cleared all the furniture and cut the new carpet right in onto the old one. It was like a trampoline and you could literally bounce across the room. There were large lumps of carpet sticking up in sections of the room and Joey grabbed the heaviest pieces of furniture and plonked them on the bulges to try and flatten them down. The whole affair looked a right mess but the professor was thrilled and paid in cash the remaining half of his bill. Beauty is indeed in the eye of the beholder and Joey sat in the passenger seat all the way back to London blowing the smoke from his roll ups in amazement through the van window.
All texts are ©1999
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