I would imagine that at some time or another, I have moaned about the British workman. I used to employ quite a few and was never impressed with their work rate when compared to some Europeans and transitory Oz and Kiwi labour.
One of the traders whose back yard is below our flat is having an extension built to extend his shop. This is quite a large building project that has kept me amused supervising from afar. There are generally about half a dozen guys on site and what they do is labour intensive – pushing, shoving, transporting things.
The external sensor on my little weather station registered 36 degree C at 3 pm yesterday. The builders worked all through this. No long sessions brewing up. No makee-workee in what shade there was. Good hard graft. T-shirts kept on. Big heavy boots. Gloves when handling bricks.
So – some of my general carping may have been unjustified. Certainly, these Jocks showed what can be done in the way of hard work. In my youth I used to earn female-entertaining money with a holiday and week-end job as a labourer on a building site and know first hand that it is not easy money.
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