167. Uneventful life, exasperating husbands (4)

I started this blog a year ago (I know! I really need to stop going on about this) when we were under a very strict lockdown and I had nobody to tell my silly stories to! No staffroom, no coffee machine, no weekends away to meet up with friends ... 

A year later and guess what? We are back under lockdown - not a strict one, just a really confusing one. Still. 

I feel I should write to the Prime Minister. 'Dear Prime Minister, could you please at least free us blog writers ...'

I cannot possibly take up a new hobby. That would be totally unreasonable: I've got enough with the exploring of world cuisines, the baking of sourdough breads and brioches, the chair upholstering, the visualising cum meditating, the cocktail mixing and the table landscaping (don't laugh) ... the planning of the TGA ... Oh! And the blog-writing of course! So no more new hobbies.

Unless ... I read in the paper this morning about how some of us have been spring cleaning on and off for over a year now and so feel it is time to bring a new dimension to this seasonal activity. We should now think spiritual spring cleaning. And you know, I could get into this ...  but for now I'll just put it on the list of other possible hobbies.

I have to put aside these mundane considerations at least just while I go to work before they lock me up again. On the way I notice - how could I have missed it - that the sniffer trucks are back!

Gas leaks! Wonderful! At least some excitement around here! I am want to scream with joy and jump up with excitement! Trying to pretend I have dropped something, I take a good look of the tarmac. I notice that there are a lot of marks in neon colours just like the ones they did outside our house just before digging. As I look closer I can see holes have been drilled where the neon marks are. There are a lot of holes, at least a dozen! Yet this time round I am an enlightened observer. I cannot believe that so many people stroll up and down the street, park cars, walk kids to school, even having a smoke and dumping their cigarette butts totally oblivious of the holes in the road surface! 

My goodness! The inhabitants of this street do not know how lucky they are in having me as a neighbour. 

I remember last summer these gas people saying that there were lots of leaks around this part of town. 

'Ancient gas pipes. Need to be replaced for most of it.' One had muttered, his cigarette dangerously hanging in the corner of his mouth, totally freaking me out.

But that was well over six months ago! It had taken them all this time to start working on this! Here I was, thinking I had a boring life with the most monotonous routine when a grand scale disaster was unravelling slowly under my nose. I had to alert my husband.

'Yes, they said they would come back.'

'That was six, seven, ... eight months ago!'

'Well, I guess they've been very busy.'

The whole neighbourhood was about to blow up - including us - and all he could think about was the busy schedule of the gas board people! That was infuriating! 

'I'm not walking up that way. That's it. I'm boycotting this end of the street.'

He laughed. And of course this made me even more cross with him. So he explained that the holes were there so they could put sensors in it and tell exactly where the leaks were.

I gave him my I-don't-belive-you-you're-just-making-this-up look. Which had no effect whatsoever upon him. 

"Honest! Google it, or check on YouTube.'

This is crazy! They make holes so they can detect the gas. In other words they make hole so the gas can escape!!!!!!!!! And all these French people smoking as if we were still in 1980. 

'That's good! When we drive across Africa, they'll be plenty of situations a lot crazier and a lot worse! So, you can see this as a practice run.'

And I'm wondering if he's the one who's been painting the neon marks and digging the tiny holes ...