I was going to write one of my diary blog-pages yesterday, but whilst I was outside in our teeny garden doing a bit of trimming, with the secateurs in one hand and a carrier bag for clippings and the cat on her extending lead in the other hand, but the phone rang and it was the boiler man from the heating firm that we use. He was booked for the next day, but said that he knew that I was usually at home most of the day and wondered if it was convenient to call today. He has been our boiler man for many years, maybe twenty years. He is Kevin to me, but he calls me Mrs Belt even though he knows full well what my name is. On getting positive reply, he said he would be round soon maybe as soon as 45 minutes of that was in order, and to turn off the boiler please.
The company had called me to book his visit and at that time, they had asked me to stay away from him please and that I should not offer him a cup of tea during the current crisis. When he was on his way, he rang again to ask me how I wanted to cope with the visit and I told him my instructions from the company office. “Oh” he said, “You always give a cup of coffee and I wouldn’t say no”.
So I told him that I would leave the garage door open and the kitchen door and leave him a cuppa on the side but that I would stay right out of his way and he thanked me for being so helpful.
On my instructions he called out to me from behind the glass kitchen door to say he had arrived. I told him that I was doing the ironing up stairs and to shout if he needed to speak. At which he said “Oh”, again and then went on “I would have brought mine round if I’d known”. I laughed and told him to behave. In fact, I hardly ever see him whilst he gets on with working in the kitchen since he just gets on with his job, I never have stayed in the kitchen while he works. He is always the same, a bit of a cheeky-chappy, but not bad mannered, very pleasant. I like that it is always the same man.
He doesn’t live that far away either and when he had finished the job he called again and I spoke over the bannisters with my mask on and he shouted through the glass door with his mask on, all properly done. He told me what he had done, including replacing a hose and reminded me that when the oil is delivered next week, to turn the boiler off on the morning they state that they will deliver, and give it at least an hour to settle afterwards before turning it back on. He then asked how I was keeping, and if was still doing all my running and biking and stuff. I told him I was but that all events were of course cancelled last year. He also asked if my husband and I had had our jabs, before saying goodbye and thanks for the coffee, then he was off and away. He closed the garage door after him. There is never, has never been, any mess at all after his annual service. However, of course this year was different; I then put on my gloves and blitzed the kitchen surfaces thoroughly just in case, because it would not be sensible after almost a year of being very careful to leave anything to chance, since he was going into other houses all day every day. I double cleaned everything and was glad then to have the next day clear of that saga.
I had shut Birdy upstairs, in what would to most people be the main bedroom. To Steve and I, it is a joint office, sewing room, ironing station. Birdy was not amused. She was quite cross when I had taken her in there and she made it clear that she did not like this change in tradition. She had not like the rushing around that I did before Kevin the boiler man arrived, she was expecting trouble, and did not intend to behave nicely. There was a lot of MEEOWING and tail juddering. So different to when we were outside a bit earlier which was nice and calm. She doesn’t do very much when I take her out on the lead, even though she would have been belly-aching at the back door to be allowed out, making the most alarming noises and shouting “Help, help, I am being kept prisoner”, to all my neighbours. It is true actually; she has been a prisoner since the beginning of last March, when since I went into stay-at-home mode, I elected that I thought it would be nice to have her as company; somebody to talk to.
She has got used to life with us after a couple of years to a level that suits her, since she was formally a stray; she knows that there is a food-on-demand system for her and that she gets fed whenever she asks me. During this time, I have begun to think that she will never be a big fat cat, since she rarely eats more than a spoonful at any time and more often than not, just licks off all the juice and leaves the rest, looking up at me in disgust, that it was not a small mouse, or a bird, and telling me that I can give what she has left of the posh dinner I have given her, to that big fat Robin in the garden.
She seems quite happy with the two people that she is stuck with; there also seems to be a cuddles-on-demand system too, when if I am working on my computer she will come along and head-butt me, or sit on my hand, or walk all over the keyboard, or nuzzle at me until my glasses fall off. This, I have found means that she wants a good fussing; head rubbed, chin stroked and good hard long smooth strokes along her back until her tail has been launched skyward into a stiff question mark leaving her sweet little spotlessly clean rectum as the ‘bottom’ dot, finalising the question. She will also let me know when enough is enough even of this fuss.
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