I was out in the garden pottering this morning, dodging the June showers, when the gas men came to say they’d be starting their digging.
Being the helpful soul I am, I was already looking at the pots in the garden and getting ready to shift them out of the way so that they’d have unobstructed access to everything. So I asked them to let me know where they’d be digging and I would clear accordingly.
They can’t find the pipes.
The detector thing they use is picking up everything, so where the gas pipes run is something of a mystery.
And wherever they are, in our garden at least, is under patio. And they don’t want to take all that up.
So they’ve spent the day digging and filling in holes in the gardens on either side of us trying to track down the passage of the gas pipe along the street.
It’s fascinating stuff.
Naff next door has most of their garden cordoned off, although I give them maybe twelve hours before the holes are filled with footballs, litter or both. Meanwhile nice next door has a freshly dug and filled hole in her lawn (which she them obsessively mowed when the turf was replaced) because they couldn’t find the pipe.
I’m hoping they need to take up most of our patio, break a few slabs and end up laying us a new one.
I mean, this pipe is obviously elusive…