Mr B and I are now Very Smart.
No, we haven't actually bought new clothes or changed our hair styles. That would, in any case, be difficult for Mr B, being follically
challenged, and for me, bearing in mind I have the kind of hair that likes to Do Its Own Thing. Like The Donald's but not so, well, obvious.
We are, in fact, the owners of a new Smart Meter, installed this
afternoon by a cheery fella from British Gas. He (the cheery fella, not the Smart Meter - though you could argue they are one and the same) arrived around 3 p.m. We had been told to expect him any time between 1 p.m. and 5 p.m.
I hate waiting for people to turn up. It is one of my many faults. I am a patient person, in the main, but I simply can't sit around twiddling my fingers. I therefore determined, while waiting for the cheery fella and the Smart Meter, to tidy the gardens,
front and back.
In this, I was encouraged - nay, shamed - by my friend, Avril, who told me last Friday, over coffee at the Heene Community Centre, that she had already made a good start on her garden, despite
the chilly weather. Looking out over my garden, I could see it needed a Good Tidy Up. My kitchen, to be fair, also needed tidying on account of the fact that I have had to remove all the hundreds of Bags for Life stowed in the cupboard under the stairs to
enable the Cheery One to gain access to our gas and electricity meters. Still, I reasoned, I could cram them all back into the cupboard at the end of the day. Am I not, after all, blessed with the Usher Gene meaning I can always find room for anything in any
cupboard, however crowded.
I made Mr B a cup of coffee, handed him the phone so that he could answer the expected call to say our cheery fella was on his way when it came through, and explained that I was
heading out into the garden. Mr B gave me one of his "Whatever for?" faces.
It was so lovely out in the garden. As I cleared the ground of dead leaves and foliage, all the daffodils which I thought might have
deserted our garden, showed up as if to say: "Fooled you! We were here all the time!" I greeted them with immense gratitude, which was only as much as they deserved. The gent from along the road came by on his crutches and stopped to chat. There was a particular
garden, just round the corner, he told me which was a mass of violets. I promised that on my next trip to the shops I would walk that way, just to check out the Violet Garden for myself.
It was the same story
in the back garden. By now I was in Full Swing, gardening-wise, and there was no stopping me. That is, until Mr B called out to tell me that the gasman was on his way and would be with us in five minutes. Just time, I thought, to boil the kettle once again
before the electricity and gas were turned off.
I can't fault our engineer either for the Cheeriness of his Disposition or for his understanding of our circumstances. Once the electricity is reconnected he
trots off to his van to fetch an electric fan heater to keep Mr B warm, replacing the inefficient blanket I have draped around his shoulders. That is, of course, Mr B's shoulders not the Cheery Gasman's shoulders - honestly, I shouldn't have to explain everything.
My new Best Friend Forever also recognises that it's not much point giving me a lecture on saving energy when my mission in life is keeping Mr B safe, comfortable and - you've guessed it - warm. We say farewell like old pals. He tells me he is on call tonight
which hasn't gone down too well with Her Indoors, it being Valentine's Day and all. I hope he gets to stay home. In the warm.
It is going to be such a boon, not having to crawl into the hall cupboard to read
the meters. Mr Smart Meter will do all that for me, clever chap that he is. I am, however, a trifle concerned that I will become obsessively interested in watching our energy usage every time I turn on the kettle or use the new toaster.
I may become a Bit of a Bore. Albeit a very, very smart one.