The Worst Day of My Life by Frances
It was in September 1998, I remember it well because it was my birthday. The front pavement needed doing as my son had bought a new car and there was not enough room for the two cars together. So when some workmen (cowboys), knocked at the door and asked if I wanted the front done, I thought, why not. I asked my husband should we take the chance. The men showed us photos of other work they said they had done and it looked good. The price was very good so how could we go wrong, big mistake.
We told them we were interested and would let them know the next day. The next morning we were woken by the sound of digging and banging. I looked out of the window and thought I was having a nightmare. My lovely weeping willow tree was pulled out of the ground with the rest of my flowers. I ran down to retrieve what I could.
“Nothing like an early start”, he said. It was then I had my misgivings. After endless pots of tea and sandwiches, watching every brick they laid, they were almost finished until they discovered they had run out of red bricks. “Don’t worry missus, we’ll get some more. They did, but the colour was at least ten shades darker. “There’s no way you are putting them down”, I said. They’ll tone down, was the reply. At this stage I was forgetting everything I had taught my children about using bad language, the air was blue. As this was going on, a big van pulled up. It was my new suite of furniture. Over the sand, muck and bricks they carried it, only to discover it would not fit in through the front porch door. So down came the front door, which they broke. The furniture was finally brought in.
You would say that was all that could happen, but no. God in his wisdom decided to put the boot in. As I was paying the men for the furniture, holding on to my door at the same time, my dog who is normally a placid, quiet animal, spotted a lady walking her little terrier on a lead. Like a flash of lightning he ran, grabbed the dog, lead and all and disappeared around the corner shaking the dog like a rag doll. I ran into the house, straight to the brandy bottle. Up to this day, I don’t know what happened to the little dog or its owner. I know there were no bodies ever found and there was not a sight of blood on my dog.
The pavement was eventually finished, only to be re-laid by my husband and myself three months later, as two by two the bricks lifted. I’m sure they were laughing at me, the bricks I mean. Yes, that must have been the worst day of my life and one I will remember forever.
