My Dad, Reg Foster, was a well-known and highly respected British reporter who, shortly before his death, was honored by the London Press Club for “75 years’ brave journalism” from 1924 to 1999.
Yes, Dad, who served as a war correspondent in the Far East during World War 11, was a great reporter, but a Handyman he was not. I seriously doubt if he picked up a screwdriver or a hammer in his life.
“Like father, like son,” they say. And while I dote on writing, I too have never thought of myself as a handyman until–believe it or not–this morning. I don’t know where it came from, but an extraordinary compulsion arose in me to see if I could fix–alone and unaided!–the Screen Door that supposedly guards our back door.
For years (I hate to say how many) the screen door in question has been hanging on by a thread, so to speak, because the screws that fasten the screen door to the door frame were either loose or missing.
A little bit of shame does rise up in me as I think how long I neglected this sorry situation. But hey. The screen door has been fixed. No screws are missing. All the screws are good and tight. I have even oiled the hinges!
Who knows, I may become a handyman yet! My love to you. If you have any thoughts on the above, please do write.
