Categories

A sample text widget

Etiam pulvinar consectetur dolor sed malesuada. Ut convallis euismod dolor nec pretium. Nunc ut tristique massa.

Nam sodales mi vitae dolor ullamcorper et vulputate enim accumsan. Morbi orci magna, tincidunt vitae molestie nec, molestie at mi. Nulla nulla lorem, suscipit in posuere in, interdum non magna.

Cooking with gas

We just had a gas meter fitted. Nothing astounding about that I suppose, but for us it’s a big step after 8 years. You need a gas meter to run a gas boiler, and you need a gas boiler for CENTRAL HEATING! I just can’t stress how many Brownie points this is going to earn me.

The most amazing thing is that it actually happened this morning at all. How many times in this country do people take a half day, or even a whole day, off work to wait for the gas/electricity/BT/Telewest/delivery man to arrive and they don’t. Or they arrive at 12.59 (they were due between 8am and 1pm) just as you’re supposed to get back to work. And they never have the parts. So the whole process needs to be repeated 3 weeks later (because that’s the earliest they can come back). Or, in a moment of desperation for a cup of coffee, you nip to the corner shop for 2 minutes for some milk only to return to find the card through the letterbox. Bastards! They were sitting outside watching and waiting!

Not this morning. There we were lying in bed at 8.00am wondering how many seconds more we could stay there before jetting the bairn off to school when Louise said, out of the blue, “I can smell gas“. Now trust me, there is no shortage of gas in our bedroom on an average morning but it doesn’t normally get commented on any more. No, this was a different type of gas. Just a faint odour somewhere in the distance. “Must be your imagination because the gas man is coming” I said, hopefully. “I suppose so” she replied. I got up, threw on some clothes for the school run and walked into the hall.

I just couldn’t believe it as I spotted the card on the doormat. Ten minutes past eight and they’ve already been, shoved a card through the letterbox and buggered off. Presumably because the blinds were still drawn. But no, wait. Lying next to the card is a small yellow key: a gas cabinet key. The unthinkable has happened. They’ve turned up at the crack of dawn, tiptoed down the outside steps to the basement, silently fitted the meter and slipped away into the morning traffic without a sound. Absolutely unbelievable!

And the craziest thing is, that wife of mine smelt them from 40 feet away.

Be Sociable, Share!

6 comments to Cooking with gas