DIY the right way!

Its been a while since I posted here, mainly because I have had an uneventful, (read boring) time out here in 'The Sticks'. But after a Canadian friend mentioned that I hadn't posted for a while, I realised that some people can waste their time on my inane rubbish, so I thought I would once again try to raise a few laughs.
Today was eventful. It started with a good idea and ended with a knee that is as swollen as a balloon.
The front of our home has a drive which is old, pot holed and not large enough to reverse the car without either hitting the neighbours car or driving over the grassy area. So hubby decided to cut up some of the grass and lay a bit of concrete over it. He would also fill in the pot holes so that daughters wheelchair wouldn't tip her out into oblivion every time she was pushed out of doors. Not a large amount, about two foot square, but for us far more than we anticipated!
Now I don't mean to sound rude, but hubby doesn't do anything very well. Mainly because he broke his back a few years ago and has trouble lifting a tea bag! But also because he's a regular bloke. You know what I mean, thinks everything is perfectly finished when, in fact, it looks like a monkey has been employed. So it was down to me to help.
He cut out the grass and stopped for tea. I started mixing then stopped for tea. We both have qualifications in tea breaks! He layed the concrete, a bit at a time while I crawled around on the mud smearing it into place. After about an hour, one third of it was done. We stopped for tea.
Then a neighbour arrived. With his two dogs. Who were not on the lead. After a while he went away. After he had written his name in the concrete! I crawled around on the floor smearing away the paw prints and his signature. Mustn't be rude, I thought, after all he is from Countrybumpkinland and probably thinks every bit of fresh concrete is a piece of The Hollywood Walk of Fame!
We carried on.
Another hour passed and it was looking good. Not good, professional good, but reasonably cack handed good enough.
We carried on.
Finally we finished. I thought it wasn't bad. Quite smooth and angled slightly so the water wouldn't pool. He thought it was immaculate.
I couldn't get up. He couldn't bend down. So I dragged myself up his leg while he made rude remarks that would have got a TV presenter the sack! Boys eh!
Slowly, I dragged myself in to the kettle while he tidied up his tools! snigger snigger. (Oh dear Ive turned into Benny Hill)!
After making two cups of lifesaving Sainsbury's own, I shuffled to the window to check that all was well. It didn't once cross my mind that I should never have left him outside, but that will be something to remember next time. He had decided to park the car. Yes. He had decided to move the car into its parking area. Very carefully reversing over the freshly laid and extremely smooth concrete, the back wheels missing it by miles.
Unfortunately the front wheels went RIGHT THROUGH IT!!!!!
Laugh? Yes of course we laughed. Our life is like that. It was funny. That's why we work so well together. We are both now in agony. My knee is so swollen I am using crutches. His back is so painful he is laid out on the floor. But tomorrow its off to B and Q for some more concrete and another go. It may look like a bunker when we are finished, but will come in handy for when I kill the neighbour and his dogs!