The gasman cometh.

[whatho]

There's an awfully talkative gasman in our hallway. I'd promised to stay in and wait for him because my mother's terribly busy sorting out my grandfather's moving house, but I was wigging out so much about the prospect of opening doors and talking to people that my brother promised to stay in as well. Then the gasman came and asked what gas appliances we had in the house and my brother said 'um' for about five minutes and I had to intervene. That wasn't the plan.

My brother's currently entertaining the man with stories of his post-university long term unemployment and terrible career prospects. It does actually seem to be quieting the gasman down somewhat.

Mother's come back. Hurrah.

He's asked her to turn the pilot light down and she quite reasonably hasn't the faintest idea what that entails. Bother. Pushy little man.

But now he's gone. Hurrah again.

Comments

[jekesta]

We had a man here to mend our boiler the other day and he didn't talk too much, but when he did talk he talked in a newcastle accent and I didn't understand anything until about two seconds later than is commonly polite. But he giggled a lot as well, which made up for things.

Your brother being incapable was quite unfair of him and I JUDGE HIM HARD.

[whatho.livejournal.com]

Giggling is quite engaging. This man was ultimately not very engaging. He became quite judgey about our living in our parents' house at our age. I left him alone after that.