Pipelaying

I spent last weekend laying a stiff length of pipe in a damp and somewhat overgrown trench.

I also made a start on replacing the drains at our summerhouse.

In theory we are supposed to be able to take every third Saturday off, with our staff covering the business, but in practice I cannot remember us having had a free Saturday this year. But this weekend we were free, and we couldn’t have chosen a better one. The weather forecasts for the weekend looked good and we decided that we would spend it down at our summerhouse, for the first time since New Year. One job that absolutely needed doing was to replace the drainage pipe from the shower and wasbasin. During the course of its 44-year life it had become completely silted up with sand. As luck would have it, the younger of my two brothers-in-law works for a company that manufactures drain pipes, manholes and the like. He promised to come over on the Saturday with a whole load of stuff: Piping, fascine for the soakaway, porous matting, connecters, we even had a peek down inside the drain with a cctv probe.

We’d also had some trees felled during the winter, ones that were growing so tall and so close to the house that they might be a threat to it if they should blow down. Now they were lying in a tangle of brushwood across the lawn. Heather started attacking some of the smaller branches with pruning shears. The hard physical work, combined with the fact that we had just had another hectic week meant that by the evening we were absolutely worn out. We tumbled into bed and fell asleep straight away. I suppose it may have had something to do with the scrumpy we consumed while we veged out in fron of the telly before going to bed.

Next morning I had a splitting headache. Nothing to do with the cider of course, I’d had flu symptoms on and off for the past week. However, with Heather lying beside me and sunlight streaming in through the curtains form a glorious sunny day, my animal urges couldn’t be denied a moment longer. I pounced on her and she lay back and enjoyed the ride as I took her hard.

It was indeed a perfect day, and we spent most of it outside, continuing the good work of the day before. We were sorry to have to leave, but we had to get back, not least because we had promised ourselves a hot bath to ease our aching limbs, with early bed to follow.

So there we lay there in bed, exhausted but relaxed, but with no thoughts of anything but sleep. I lay on my back in the near-dark and Heather draped her arms across me. For a moment she was that smiling, freckle-faced, 19 year-old who first captivated me. As she tucked in close the thought came to me that it isn’t always just about sex: Sometimes the nearness of a woman, soft and warm, is more than enough.