Our plumber called round today. No we didn’t have any drips or leaks and the heating system was pumping copious amounts of hot water, which was keeping our guests happy, installed upstairs. No Alain had called round to share a petit café and keep us posted about any local gossip. He is a good conduit for all matters local. We are situated a few doors away from the local ‘Laboratoire Analyse’ and Alain was calling in there for a ‘picque’ and decided to take the opportunity to call in and see us and chew over the grisly bits. Anyway the conversation turned from blood tests and bad backs to the topic of Karate. This was something I had not associated with our friendly neighbourhood plumber but soon he was up on his feet, all matters of bad blood and dodgy knees and backs behind him and was moving silently through a series of smooth turns and sweeps accompanied by short chopping motions. For a man of Alain’s stamp (rather large and bulky) this was rather impressive. Soon he had me on my feet and there we were like a couple of old sparring partners. A bit like Muhammed Ali and Joe Frazier, or perhaps not.
A plumber and his mate
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