Showing posts with label Meter. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Meter. Show all posts

Friday, 25 July 2025

Badger the Meter


As part of the monthly routine, most of you will understand this, I have to clamber downstairs, trundle round the back of the building, then clamber downstairs once more to the basement.  Once, this was easy, now it is a trial, especially when half way there I realised I had forgotten the paperwork to scribble down the numbers thereof!  Being an idiot is great most of the time but not always you realise. Anyway, down there amongst the ageing spiders webs, the litter blown in by various gales, the odd items dumped by lazy tenants moving on, and the occasional corpse, I found the meter where I had left it.  I scribbled down the numbers, pocketed the paper and pen, and began my ascent.
Eight steps may be few to you, but eight cramped aged steps, with that bit of wood at the bottom looking like it will move anytime, are beginning to worry me.  At least there was music.  The man in No 2 had a guitar CD blasting out, much to my pleasure, rather than the dross on offer most days in this world, and as I grabbed the sides and laboured myself up into the bright sunlight I realised that if I did get trapped down there he would not have heard my pleas.  I might have had to await his woman shutting him up before I could be rescued by Highway patrol.  There again they might just shut the door, fasten the bolt and forget me.  
Anyway, that aside I got out.
Walking slowly in the sunshine I noted how the efficient recycling is going.  One week recycling, next week paper and card.  This morning the boys have just grabbed the lot!  Why do we bother if the staff do not know what they are to do?  Who knows?  However, it has gone off to the piles of recycling lying hither and thither near the railway.  Very safe, unless it catches fire again. 
To revive myself after my trial, I opened a bottle of 'Badger Master Stoat'  'Coffee Stout.'  Very much Coffee stout indeed!  And very good it is too, I recommend this.  A half a pint of this and I'm anybody's today, as long as I can lie on the floor.  
The breweries tried to make us drink foul mass produced rubbish way back when, and this gave rise to many smaller and better breweries brewing proper and varied beers.  Some succeed, some fail, the thing to do is to try one occasionally.  With the prices thereon and taxed abundantly this means I will not become an alcoholic any time soon.  Not that I would, but such prices hinder this anyway.
So, I slowly recover and await the frozen fish in the oven warming up, then the weekend can begin...

Friday, 29 September 2023

Meter Reading!


The British Gas lie is under way again.  'Send us your meter reading,' they say, yet the normal system appears to have 'technical problems!  Ha!  This happened last time they were fixing the charges.  The extra system they offered for entering readings did not go through, and I used the normal system.  That is, once it worked!  They demand a reading by tomorrow, for us to save money, but make it impossible to enter one.  Crooks! Crooks! Crooks!
Ha!  Victory!
Trying again brought success.  Forcing me to make use of their new, crooked, meter reading has not worked!  I have entered the reading properly, but will they notice?  
Interesting how the gas prices have fallen back to the original rate, the electric ones have shot up, all the while claiming they are coming down!  Crooks! Crooks! Crooks!  
Nationalise them all now!
So, having clambered down into the bowels of the building for the electric reading, having fought past the overgrown plant to read the gas, my day returned to nothingness.  Hopefully the last effects of this Covid will end this weekend.

Channel Fisher, Eric Ravilious, c.1940