Mammy Dunne and the gas man

I'M updating my blog a little earlier today because I have been banned from mooching around the kitchen, due to the arrival of the gas man. Those of you who read my earlier post about Mammy Dunne's obsession with being fully washed and dressed in preparation for the arrival of the revered gas man will realise what a momentous occasion this is.

Lo for he has-eth arrived. Yonder gas man with his bag of tools to service the boiler, thus ensuring we don't all die of carbon monoxide poisoning as happened to poor Rita Fairclough in Coronation Street. Yea though we walk in the valley of an old boiler, we shall fear no death, for the gas man is with us. For he is wise and certified by Bord Gais.

When our dodgy bell chimed it's off-tune 'dong-dong' to announce his arrival, I was the recipient of an almighty slap across my night-dressed legs and Mammy Dunne hissed "get up them stairs and cover yourself, it's the Gas Man." Note the use of capital letters.

As soon as I was up on the landing, she flung open the door all warm smiles and twinkling eyes, ushering him in, laughing off his apologies for being late with a fake "ah sure you're grand, we had nothing else to do today anyway". This despite the fact that she had spent the whole morning peering out the window looking for him muttering things like "I haven't all day you know" and "Sacred Heart of Jesus get a move on". Apparently it's ok to take the Lord's name in vain when you're waiting for the Gas Man. Sure even the Pope himself couldn't fault her for that, it was practically a hobby of the late JP II, she says.

No sooner than the poor chap was in the door however, did she abandon him to Daddy Dunne and scuttle upstairs to see what I was up to. "Sure that's man's work so it is. I wouldn't have a clue about boilers so I wouldn't." Er and Daddy Dunne does? I can hear him now nervously rubbing his hands together and stammering "it eh, needs a new part does it? Right, well we're a bit short of cash so maybe......oh, it'll explode without this part will it? Right. 80 euro you say? Well, I suppose that's reasonable....." while all the time thinking "shag it, I wanted to go for a pint tonight and all". Plus he'll have to put up with Mammy Dunne saying incredulously (once the Gas Man has gone of course) "you paid him WHAT?" and then not speaking to him for the rest of the evening, apart from a snide "fools and their money" "...need new curtains but oh no, HE gives it to the Gas Man" "sure any fool could see that fella was a chancer" every now and again.

Thankfully I'm well out of it, ensconced up here with my lovely broadband and my blog, waffling on for what must seem like hours to my poor readers. It's a little trick I'd advise you all to take as your own: when any electricians/plumbers/gas men call to your door to do repairs/drink your tea get a random male friend to stay downstairs with them, while you escape to your room and watch tv. It's easier all round!

After all the commotion and blasphemy, the Gas Man left after a mere 30 minutes with a cheerful "see you next year" and you'll be pleased to know it turned out the boiler didn't need a new part in the end, so Daddy Dunne was allowed to go for his pint after all.

Now what's this Mammy Dunne's muttering about having the carpets cleaned.....? Saints preserve us!