The Gasman Cometh
Well, I've had better mornings. Gas engineers landed outside the house and got me out of bed to ask if I could move my car. Oh, and you'll notice both your wing mirrors have been smashed off and are now just hanging by the electric cables. Your neighbours' cars have been attacked, too, and the metal fencing around the disused garage on the corner has been torn down.
Fortunately, it looks as though the mirrors aren't a right off (replacing them would cost the thick end of £100, even if I used the backstreet trade outlet I know in Birmingham), and I have to say the Gas guys were really helpful in that regard. Later, I made coffee for the two digging a three-foot hole next to my gate. You do actually have gas?, they enquired as the hole grew deeper and deeper in search of the pipes which need renewing. I told them to stop if they heard Australian accents.
Guess it could have been worse. At least they didn't slice through my broadband cable, as the team outside flyingsauce's did on Monday morning.
Meanwhile, the pub next to the garage site is applying for extended opening hours. Oddly enough, Ann and I have already lodged a formal objection.
Edit: Just took the car for a spin, and the mirrors appear to function okay. However, the chip in my credit card seems to have died. *sigh*