Days when you were better off with boiled ham
ALL that glitters is not gold, and glittering technology can be a pain.
I spent a large part of the afternoon online with British Gas – altering things. This has left me baffled and needing a walk in the fresh air, a prospect to which I have now awarded the highest priority.
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Hide AdResorted to the telephone in the end, and while the woman I spoke to was very nice, she’s obviously not the sharpest knife in the drawer and now I’m further baffled.
Why do the gas people supply the electricity?
Can you remember when the gas man used to call and empty the meter of all those shiny shillings and 5/16in steel washers?
Ours (gas man) was called Mr Raleigh. He would empty the meter’s contents on to our kitchen table, and then count the shillings into piles of 20 each (shillings in a pound).
Then, as if it were his own money, he’d generously slide one pile back across the table towards mum (by way of a discount), shovelling the rest into his large black leather bus-conductor’s pouch. We’d have boiled ham for tea.
You could end it all for a shilling too, if you had one. But better off with boiled ham.