Gas men

Friston, April 2022

As a nation we have experienced a four-day weekend prompted by the glorious reign of Queen Elizabeth the Second, God bless her and her eye-searing outfits. Nobody can say she doesn't rock a strong colour statement at the age of 96. Anyway, I took very little notice of the whole event and didn't turn on the TV at all, but received as much news as I wished via the odd radio news headline, which I listen to between 08.00 and 08.10 each morning. Too much news at the moment is very bad for the health.

So I pootled down to see mum and dad on the Friday, and travelled via cousin Y's new house to Lola II and Mr M, arriving just in time for an impromptu whisky tasting, as they were looking for new food/whisky combinations. We had a strange supper of roast parsnip and whisky, dried apricot, dried mango and dates and whisky, Danish Blue cheese and whisky and probably more that I've forgotten, accompanied by bread and ending with chocolate, banana and tahini cake. And whisky. It was fun, and I slept well.

There is more to relate regarding the stiff gas tap problem which was diagnosed by my Gas Safety man, followed by much sucking of teeth from the Gas Infrastructure man who then visited, after which I hoped the issue would go away. But no, I was contacted to arrange another visit, and had a nice conversation about how inaccessible the gas tap is and how I don't really want them knocking my house about. I discovered that the repair is not compulsory, which was good news, but that they would send another Gas Infrastructure man to see if the first Gas Infrastructure man was right or not. 

GI man 2's view was the opposite of GI man 1, and he set about replacing the stiff gas tap within the confines of its tiny cupboard. The next time I wandered down to see how GI man 2 was getting on, the whole meter was out of the cupboard and he was preparing to depart, with the promise that I would be visited by someone else to re-connect the gas, light the boiler again and test to make sure all was well.

Someone else turned out to be two people - GI man 3 was actually a GI youth: a trainee supervised by GI man 4.  GI man 4 was only slightly older than the meter, which dated from 1987, and GI trainee was considerably younger. Once they'd connected the meter and tested for leaks, they moved to the kitchen. "How do we know the gas is connected properly?" asked GI man 4, standing in front of the boiler. "Turn on the hot water tap?" suggested trainee GI trainee. "It's not a combi boiler," reminded GI man 4. "I hate boilers," said GI trainee, more than once. The answer is that you turn the heating/hot water on and go and look to see if the meter shows that gas is flowing.

The work in Pub Next Door is advancing slowly. I visit the crew every day at least once - there was more noise as they broke up the concrete at the front and dug holes for new gate posts; they have created a new bin space and lined the end wall with timber prior to replacing the corrugated plastic roof with something more pleasing and sturdy. They requested some squash on the hottest day, I bought them some chocolate fingers, they are replacing the fencing at the top of our adjoining wall which means I get a wave and a grin through the window when I go into the kitchen, which for this recluse is slightly disturbing. Griff (the man in charge) is now my BFF, but I'm quite glad I'll be away for much of next week.