László, the plasterer, is such a character that it almost seemed predestined that he work at the Tall House. With an accent as thick as goulash and a vocabulary that hints at an eastern bloc upbringing, "in what commune is this Small Street?", László's humour is dryer than the plaster dust he creates.
Upon discovering my mother-in-law at our house one afternoon, he only briefly acknowledged her presence with a curt "I don't know you" before resuming his business. Now this would be a rather off putting attitude for even the strongest hearted of individuals, but my dear mother-in-law is made of stronger stuff. So although shaken, the poor woman was loath that she would forget her manners, and managed to offer him a cup of coffee. To her utter astonishment, he accepted! As it turns out he is a coffee fiend.
But my dear mother-in-law was unable to locate our coffee stash in the freezer so László was left hanging.
The next morning Manu, trying to make up for the caffeinus interruptus of the previous afternoon, set out all the coffee supplies: a cup, spoon and sugar, along with a note saying that there was milk in the fridge. The stove top coffee maker was primed and ready to go, all Sandor had to do was turn it on. But when Manu returned from work, all was exactly as he had left it.
Manu: László, how come you didn't make yourself some coffee?
László: I don't touch your stuff.
Manu: But I heard you love coffee, I set it all out for you.
László: That's your problem.
While we didn't see much of him during the 8 days he spent painstakingly applying paper thin coats of plaster to our walls, he was a constant subject of conversation at the dinner table as we found his particular slow burn brand of humour tickled our funny bones immensely.
So thanks to László our post blitzkrieg-chic walls are a thing of the past and we have more than a few stories to tell.
We have even invited him back to paint the upstairs bathroom. We like having him around, but hey, that's our problem.
