Handy Mandy

Usually my boys take it in turns to drive me demented but this week they've gone stereo.

The Apprentice son is just not handy. I, on the other hand, am quite handy - so would you be if you were married to Mr Smith who can't change a lightbulb. Much of the Apprentice's apprenticeship was spent in France building a house where surely he must have learnt something (?) He decided to replace a broken kick panel in our kitchen; a job I had requested 5 months ago. He went off to the shop and came back with something in the wrong size, the wrong shape and the wrong colour, despite taking an old piece with him. He then tried to hack it up propped against the dining room table with my new jacket underneath. I have just given him a basic carpentry lesson in how to use a workbench, a tape measure, a pencil, a jig and a saw. I always find a measuring device more reliable than guesswork. Maybe that's just me?

The Student son's request for an artist's studio in which to film is impossible. There just aren't any. I am going beserk looking to no avail. I am beginning to think my mother got it right after all; leave them to bring themselves up but maybe I'll go easier on the undermining and cruelty.

The Apprentice is trying to do "handy" damage around the home as I promised to take him the Ideal Home Show to buy his shed today. He's trying to get into my super good books but these catastrophes around the house are not entirely winning me round. I have asked him to put up a clematis outside the playroom that is trailing all over the ground in an unruly manner. He is drilling it to the wall like Jesus on the cross! There is some trellis there somewhere if he looks. He gives DIY it's true meaning - if you want something doing properly, Do it Yourself. And I will. Mr Smith will watch.