How to test ‘skills’ you don’t have?

Pressure is on to become Bob the Builder for daughter’s birthday, when I’m about as handy as a stick of butter.

This might be what the cubby house looks like. Photo: Warren Lynam / Sunshine Coast Daily

OPINION:

IN ABOUT a week, you will no longer have to deal with my weekly musings, I assume, when we transition into the digital-only world.

I imagine it won’t spark a national day of mourning — possibly the opposite from at least two readers who were never short of feedback.

Which leaves me in a real conundrum.

How do I send this column out?

Do I go out in a blaze of blasphemous glory, unloading with my criticisms of the church?

Or do I turn the attention to our broken political system?

Or do I go the other way, and spread the love.

Reflect on the good times we’ve shared, the abuse you’ve emailed in at times, and try and extract a few tears?

I’m genuinely torn.

Luckily, I have another week to land on the exact tone.

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I’m leaning towards sentimental, but the temptation to annoy a few as this column cruises off into the sunset is strong.

One thing that isn’t as strong is my desire to serve up a whole structure full of disappointment to my daughter for her birthday.

She’s marking a milestone this weekend and, in true journalist style, I am leaving my present run late, as I am often unable to do anything without the pressure of a deadline on me.

The request, but, is leaving me a little concerned.

A cubby house has been called for.

For months.

Not just a flash-in-the-pan thought bubble lost in a haze of butterflies and scootering. No. The cubby house flame has been burning strongly for months.

Friends have been advised about it.

“Daddy is getting me a cubby house.”

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The only problem is, daddy has less construction ability than he does sporting. That means there is almost no chance of this thing even closely resembling what the brochure shows.

I fear this thing will end up looking more demolition site than Tea Party Central.

I’ll struggle through, and curse my way to some sort of structure with a cyclone rating somewhere between light breeze and heavy breathing.

I sense a very late night ahead at some point this week, but it will all be worth it.

I only hope it’s not like the trampoline.

What proved to be a popular addition was the cause of some concern at every use.

I was convinced it was only a matter of time until the structure simply swallowed her up and folded in on itself, held together by nothing more than hope.

Perhaps it was lucky in a way when the wind took care of that for us, folding the trampoline like soft butter.

But I wouldn’t expect this cubby house to fare much better.

She might just score a free hard hat to go with it.

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