Mum's the Word: DIY can be risky, but it's just too tempting

We know DIY is best left to the professionals, but still we persist.

A fruit laden elderberry bush

I’m not crazy enough to attempt major DIY on my own, but I did entirely repaint my last flat with its high tenement ceilings, which required flagrantly lying to my friend Country Girl who advised scaffolding and whose conversation is laced with words like “gantry”, “towers” and “hire one from Jewsons”.

“Yes, I’m on the platform now,” I would say, answering her on my mobile while in fact teetering at the top of my ladder, dabbing away at the egg and dart cornice, overstretching to daub the crevices of the ceiling rose.

What an idiot. But it was good for my core and professionals are pricey.

At least I had the sense to plan ahead by having children with a tall person, so Eldest came in handy to paint the yawning canyon of the hall, earning himself the title of Favourite Child that week.

It’s not like I don’t have experience of DIY disasters as Other Parent once fell off a ladder while painting a cornice, which was a disaster as he landed on the telly and broke it, and the job was hugely delayed while he rested an apparently sore back.

But some jobs seem safe enough, pruning the Elderberry trees tickling the satellite dish for instance. Plus the tree surgeon quoted more than my car’s worth.

It took a while to work out why viewing was interrupted by random pixelation. The final straw was the England Germany Euros game when there was no picture at all.

Raging, I raced outside, saw the Elderberry responsible and hacked off a few shoots during the anthems. Result.

I’ve tried to appreciate the Elderberry, experimenting with cordial, but Youngest Child declared it tasted of Old Mattress. I’ve chewed a few mattresses in my time and she was spot on.

This week it’s at it again during a visit from Middle Child, so I grab my secateurs and head outside carrying the Nana steps.

However, Mr Health and Safety follows, grabs the secateurs, takes them inside and stashed them on a very high shelf, one the Nana steps can’t reach.

“No. It’s dark, there are wires, you could fall,” he says. “We’ll watch Netflix.”

Who put him in charge? Why did I have such tall, sensible children?

“Anyway,” he says. “It’d need a saw.”

He’s so right, which is why today saw me at Screw-Fix taking possession of my shiny new saw.

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