“Come home, Mr W is here”, Janine shouts in a strident plaintiff voice. I detect some irritation in there somewhere but let it pass.

“No. We are in the movies. You let him in”, I whisper while fellow movie goers cast accusing glances as us.

“No. Come home. N-O-W !!!”

Who could resist such an angelic request?

Irate Movie Goers mumble obscenities at us as we scrape, bang and shove past them.

Mr W is there but in body only. In the past half an hour, he has been battling to get the door out of his Mercedes. He cannot seem to work out how to remove it. I stood there nonplussed because if he had figured out how to get it in, then surely he can figure out how to get it out.

Eventually in frustration, I agree to get the door up to the house while he carries his tools. The situation is analogous to having a dog but still doing the barking.

Now to fit the door. It should take no more than an hour.  This is my estimation based on the amount of work to be done. Where I underestimated the time to perform this mundane job, was Mr W himself. This simple task utterly overwhelms Mr W’s drink befuddled brain. It was going to be a LOOOOOOOONG night. But I made a pact with myself that while Mr W was there I would ensure that the door was fitted that night even if I did the majority of the work. Just don’t remind me about my dog analogy because I knew that already. But desperation results in flawed thinking.

I then quizzed him, “WWWW, where is the other half of the door?”

“Oh!” he exclaims in surprise, “I thought that you did not need a top half seeing that it is still OK.”

The fact that the two halves are totally different in every way, does not seem to have struck Mr W!

Janine calls me aside.

“Mr W was drunk when he arrived and had 6 of our beers before you arrived”   she whispers.

“I can see that” as I shake my head in acknowledgement. Why is she telling me the obvious, as if I a dolt? But I am not into mind games just yet.

Mr W cannot fit the door not matter what he tries. Forty years of experience does not help a jot. He mumbles to himself. Finally he scratches for a tape measure. I hand him mine. He measures the door, and then measures it again. Then he stops again, scratches his head again and frowns again. Then all movement stops as he contemplates the situation. Slowly he picks up the measuring tape and re-measures the door. The final act of measurement takes him 15 minutes. He has now been flat on his behind on my kitchen floor over close to an hour and a half & nothing has happened.

I glance at the kitchen clock. It is 23:00 and the door has not been fitted.

Mr W re-measures it for one last time. His eyes light up. He has figured out what the problem is. It is a very simple problem. In very basic terms that even Mr W can understand, I explain to him: “The wood is too big for the hole in the wall.”

It does the trick. It seems to have penetrated even Mr W’s brain. Non-technical layman’s language worked for the ultimate technical expert! As a rank layman, this fact had been obvious to me for hours but I was playing a diabolic game of “You’re-On-Your-Own-Mate. Just-Figure-It-Out”

“Not a problem” he laconically announces, “I will take it to my workshop and be back by 2:00 tomorrow morning. I will fit it then.”

Without setting the alarm, I go straight to sleep. At 9:00, I wake up but Mr W has not yet been to fit the door. Why am I not surprised or even annoyed anymore?

At 12:00 I decide to go out for the rest of the day. I am seething. If Mr W steps through that front door, I will beat him to a pulp without asking his permission. I will then feed the remaining bits to the sharks. Finally the bits that the sharks spit out in disgust, I will burn in Hades.

I figure that he will do what he always does; speak to me as if nothing was wrong with nary even a muted apology. The best that I had received was a sorry – sotto voce – hidden away somewhere in the sentence.

Janine phones at 15:00 to inform me that the door had been fitted.

I stare at the German craftsmanship. Mr W has done an excellent job of the woodwork; better than what mine would have been. But coming off such a low standard, anything was equivalent to fine German craftsmanship!

I just have a huge problem: the two panels are made out of different types of wood & have a different pattern.

In conclusion just a caveat: If you ever want me to rip off your arm and bludgeon you with the wet end, just enquire why the two halves of our back door are different.

Episodes of The Case of the Missing Back Door

Part 1:

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 1 of 3: A terrified dog makes a grand entrance

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 1 of 3: A terrified dog makes a grand entrance

Part 2:

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 2 of 3: Specialist assistance is acquired

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 2 of 3: Specialist Assistance is Acquired

Part 3:

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 3 of 3: Finally its in – well maybe

The Case of the Missing Back Door – Part 3 of 3: Finally its in – well maybe