Whitby Anniversary “Treat” day 2

By Wendy the Other Half

 The great thing about not taking the kids is that we get to sleep on a bed! The blinds are still as thin as a cigarette paper so I’m still getting the sunrise, but am at least getting some sleep.

 Now we have been getting a very slight whiff near the gas meter (it’s situated outside the house) so we call the engineer. He arrives, very promptly, and provided with coffee and biscuits he replaces an elbow ( I think that’s what it’s called, it’s cylindrical and it bends). All well and good, until he tests the meter and he still says there’s a leak and tells us not to use it. This is a problem. My hour shopping yesterday was spent buying nice, expensive food and I know if I can’t cook the nice meals they will not be replaced by nice restaurants , they will be replaced by the chip shop! There are fantastic chip shops in Whitby (especially Silver Street) but it’s not what I’d had in mind.

Stuff Doer pulls out the (admittedly ancient) cooker to have a look to see if there’s something wrong with the connection. Nothing obvious and no smell. What he does find, however is something we hadn’t reckoned on. More blue asbestos (Doh!) and behind the larder cupboard another door. This door once led into the covered passage. It looks like this door has just been rendered over outside. The only reason for having three doors that we can think of is that, maybe, at one time in it’s long history the cottage has been a shop.

As there is no smell of gas in the kitchen (even after leaving the door shut for an hour) we decide to use the gas, but turn it off if ever we leave the building. I’m sure this isn’t best practice so “Don’t try this at home!” Stuff Doer decides that he’s not made enough mess today, so proceeds to rip down the ceiling in the master bedroom. In fairness, it’s a job that needs doing as there is absolutely no insulation, just plasterboard and pantiles. This is our anniversary “treat” (only a few months late) so after a clean up (stuff doer, not the room) we decide to go to The Beach Hotel in Sandsend. We usually stay in a flat next door to The Beach and wanted to pick the landlord’s brains about local tradesmen. After a good night with good company, we leave in a taxi with the contact details of a good plumber. (Note to self, don’t prop up the bar all night when you know the sun’s going to blind you in the morning)

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