Flower power shower

Yesterday morning brought us a surprise visit from the gas authority just as I was about to have a shower. The knocking on the door was very insistent, so we had to answer it despite being in a state of considerable undress. What the gas man thought of the shivering man and woman wrapped in towels and holding a garden watering can full of steaming hot water is anybody’s guess, but I expect he’s seen it all before.

He delivered us the fantastic and unexpected news that repairs were about to commence on the broken gas pipe right away and that the gas supply would be restored by the end of the day. I was overjoyed that this was going to be my last shower from a watering can and that hot food would be back on the menu in time for my brother and sister-in law coming to stay that evening.

An hour later, the door went again and I rushed to answer it, fully clad this time. I was delighted that they’d taken even less time than originally estimated to repair the pipe. Sadly, the man on the doorstep informed us that the gas authority had been completely misled about the safety of the propped-up front steps and that work could not now be carried out until they were fully repaired. Oh joy.

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