Professional standard

Yesterday's date was with the chap who's a bit of a regular, although I've not seen him for a few months. He turned up - a bit late - but not so much as one would need to complain, but instead of flowers and choccies he brought a tape measure and a paint chart. He's a builder/decorator. It was time to tackle the outer hall and a few other jobs. He assessed the inner hall, ran his hands lightly over the walls and nodded with approval.

"When did I do this, then? Don't seem to recall."

"I did it last year."

"No, love, this is done to a professional standard. Must have done it myself."

"Actually, no. I did it. All of it, from the sanding, filling, more sanding, painting..."

He refused to believe me, imagining that my little female brain had gone into overload confusion. Why do men never believe a woman can do jobs they regard as 'masculine' jobs. I'll have him know I've done a fair bit of painting and decorating in my time. I can wield a sander, a razor-scraper and a paintbrush with the best of 'em.

I only hope he doesn't send me a bill when he discovers he's not invoiced me for work he didn't do.