Finding a team for DIY project much harder these days - Kevin Page

The offer of a few beers and a barbie tended to draw a good number of your mates to help. Photo / 123rf

Back in the day, when we were all young, fit and bulletproof, if you had anything that needed to be done requiring a bit of manpower there was always an easy solution.

The offer of a few beers and a barbie tended to draw a good number of your mates out of the woodwork and before you knew it the driveway concrete was laid, the fence was erected or the roof was painted.

Naturally, it was all finished by beer o’clock and the snags, drenched in tomato sauce of course, only added to the general feeling of satisfaction.

Job well done, it was a case of see you at Muzza’s new place Saturday morning to help him shift in. That sort of thing.

Over time, of course, things have changed a bit.

In our 30s and 40s, all the concrete driveways had been in for a while. As had the fences. And as for the roof, well, we were doing all right financially by then so we got some bloke to do it while we played golf.

And it wasn’t a problem if we couldn’t help Muzza move into his new flat on Saturday morning. Kids’ sports came first. He understood. Besides, he didn’t have much furniture left after his divorce. He was able to do most of it himself.

These days, the “boys” are well and truly established members of the grandads’ club.

And that’s the issue Mrs P and I encountered this past week.

So let me explain.

Because we live fulltime on the road in our caravan, we have a storage unit which is literally packed to the rafters back at home base with household stuff we’ve kept.

Our accountants are sorting some stuff out for us and need a copy of something. Typically this piece of paper is in a secure box at the bottom of the unit at the very rear.

We think.

Regardless. We’ve got to go in there and look for it.

This would just require a bit of old-fashioned elbow grease, I assured Mrs P. I’d get hold of the boys, we’d shift everything out, find the paper, put everything back in and be enjoying a coffee at the BP down the road before any of their wives noticed they were missing.

Well, at least that was the plan.

First, I needed to assemble the team.

The Boomerang Child’s bloke, Builder Boy, is normally the go-to guy for this kind of task if I’m honest. Impressively muscular with agility and youth on his side, he’d have the job done by himself before the coffee had even been stirred.

Unfortunately, he’s out sick.

And while the recently returned No 1 Son is equally impressively proportioned, he’s currently about to start work in a new job 500km away.

Okay. So next we went outside the family. This is when I realised that while a lot of my mates will still show up for beer o’clock and the associated barbie, they are less likely to be as enthusiastic or able when it comes to the hard graft I require beforehand.

That’s because we’re all so much older now. Bits have fallen off us. The remaining bits don’t always work.

Take the Scottish Plumber. He was available, he said, but he reminded me he’s basically been operating with one good arm for the past five years.

Then there’s the Big Fish. He’s down to one good leg and a knee on the other one which goes in and out like the tide.

Then there’s me. I can basically contribute one arm, one hand, one leg and Mrs P’s eftpos card so I can buy the coffee after we’ve finished. If we get it finished.

As it turned out, on the day the Scottish Plumber had an emergency which required the use of his one good hand so he was out and the Big Fish’s knee problem reared its ugly head so he was out too.

That left me – or at least some of me – and Mrs P. So we pulled up our sleeves and got stuck in.

It has to be said, My Beloved was a trooper, back issues and all.

We pulled everything out, found the required paper and put everything back in except one item.

It was too bulky for me to get my good arm round or for her to lift by herself.

Thankfully, a bloke turned up at the storage unit opposite so we asked him for a lift and he obliged. Mrs P and I took one end and he took the other.

We had planned to shout him a coffee at the end of the procedure but unfortunately we were otherwise occupied.

We dropped the heavy item on his foot and Mrs P had to administer first aid and then drive him home.