130. Safety issues (2)

I am staring at the neon rings painted on the concrete and feeling very sorry for myself. A gas leak is a rare occurence. The man himself has just told me. This one is a tiny leak and it takes a truck to smell it. My mind is going fuzzy and I am feeling very tired; all I want is to go back to bed. I look up and the two men are still there, waiting patiently for me to recover from the shock.

I sigh deeply and raise my head. I am about to speak when I notice that the short dishevelled man is bringing a cigarette to his mouth and that his hand is going to his pocket ...

'NO! NO! NO!' I say sharply, Margaret-Thatcher like, waving my finger at him. 'I live here. You have just told me that there is a gas leak,(my finger is now pointing at the ground) and you want to smoke a cigarette!'

I shake my head at the other man who just shakes his head too.

'Yeah. Right. OK.' He seems totally unconcerned.

I feel as if I am faced with more teenagers. And I know that my patience is running out.

'So.' I say, using that Margaret Thatcher tone of voice again.

'What now?'

'Well, you know, we dig to find the pipes. Then, we assess the situation.'

'You ... assess the situation?'

Is this man really telling me he is going to assess hole digging? Honestly! What has the world come to! He is so pleased with himself, there is no stopping him now!

'The other team then comes and puts in new pipes and also take this opportunity to put a new meter outside.' He stresses the word for the ignorant fool that he is dealing with (me). 'Then we come back and fill in the hole. Then an other team comes and cements the new meter in your wall and the cobbled stones.'

I find myself raising my eyes to the heavens. It seems that three different teams will be involved! Thank goodness it is a tiny leak! They now hand me a form. 

'There. Please.' 

He has tucked the cigarette behind his ear. I try to ignore this and I sign. Not even reading the stupid thing. Which is the moment my neighbour arrives on the scene. I know he is going to go on about his gas pipes and about my signing a form without reading it.

On cue:

'Ha ha ha! Signing a form without reading the small print! Ha ha ha!' 

'Gas explosion imminent, the quicker I sign the quicker these guys stop the leak.'

My neighbour's face drops instantly. He knows I mean business. He does not want to be reminded of the year of the great flooding.

But still he hangs around. He wants a gas leak too. 

'Have you checked our pipes?' He asks and I can hear tension in his voice. I start grinning stupidly too.

'How come the sniffer-truck hasn't spotted any leaks in our house We've obviously got the same pipes as the houses date from the same decade. And our meter is inside too, will we get a new one outside?'

I raise my eyes to the skies again. He goes on.

'Maybe it is because our pipes are deeper under our house and so the truck could not pick up the gas smell ...' He now sounds worried.

But these guys are not listening to him. The signed form triggers a sequence of disturbing events: once signed it is dumped on the front seat of their van and immediately they set to work unloading a whole load of equipment: red and white security fences, a gigantic canvass tote bag (?), shovels, pick-axes, tubes and pipes in all sizes and colours, ... My neighbour goes back inside and so do I.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.