I have finally given up the pretense. I am admitting with my hands in the air that I am pretty rubbish at DIY. This may not shock some of you and deep down it certainly doesn't shock me. But hey we're not perfect at everything. With that admission out of the way I can tell you that we have in the house with us today a builder/electrician/handyman/tool owner. He is currently trying to patch up the hole I made some time ago and doing lots of other jobs too including drilling holes in walls.
The wee man, as I had thought, didn't take too well with a strange man in a high viability jacket upon a ladder drilling loudly into my bathroom wall. Curiosity soon turned to terror as our man with a drill bit the size of my head began his work.
The wee man's curiosity returned at the sight of the unguarded tool box in the kitchen, his eyes lighting up with new play things on the floor. The box contained lots of things that looked like great fun for the wee man but to me looked like a box of decapitation and death. Quick as a flash he pounced on the unguarded box but if there's one thing quicker than a curious child it's a parent watching their child doing something dangerous. He gave his tantrumey moan as I carried him away under my arm saying "but son, I can't possibly let you play with hammers and Stanley knives because then you might just chop off your hand or worse stab me". There's no telling the boy.
My acceptance of the inevitable realisation of my lack of skills and finally getting in a professional who actually owns tools may finally get The Chancellor off my back. She has been going on and on and on and on and on and on about the hole I made some time ago, claiming the bathroom should have been sorted well before Christmas. This may be true but I've been a bit busy and I've refused because of a male pride thing to not let any other man do work on the house. Finally the denial has lifted.