Darren was a grafter. A bricklayer by trade, he would pride himself in getting stuck into a project. The more he was seen as being willing to get involved, the more likely he was to be awarded the work. So, in all weathers, he’d be the first on site and probably the first to leave. Usually his materials would already be there, waiting. His trusty Hilux rarely had to carry bricks or blocks any more; operating as a sub-contractor the most he’d likely have to carry around was his tools and a couple of bags of “emergency” cement.
All of which would be ejected from the loadbed for the weekend, when the Hilux would become his leisure vehicle. Darren and his friends would work hard, play hard. Life was short so every moment of free time was worth accounting for. Living in Milton Keynes, though, was a curse for the intrepid. In his heart Darren yearned for the coast and the chance to deploy a jetski, which would bring with it a fantastic excuse to wear figure-hugging dayglo neoprene clothing.