A new boiler?

On Monday, British Gas Man came to service the boiler, which was working fine.
"It's 16 years old now," he said, "I'm supposed to persuade you to get a new one, but, don't worry, the parts for this one are still available."
After a conversation about why I objected to the fact that the only boilers that we are now allowed to have are condenser boilers, which, I have read, are not very reliable in very cold weather and about Dad's boiler which is now 45 years old and still going strong, he left.
Yesterday, Keith had a call on his mobile phone, asking for me. (Don't ask!) It was British Gas Call Centre Man. In tones of deepest gloom and darkest warnings, he began to tell me that, as our boiler is now 16 years old, it is FAR more likely to break down and it will be ALMOST IMPOSSIBLE to get parts for it if it should. Boilers are only meant to last ten years, so I should really be thinking of replacing it and would I be interested in a free, no-obligation quote?
"No," I said.
"Can I ask why?" he said.
"Yes," I said, "I am certainly not going to spend over £2000 buying a new boiler when the old one is working perfectly well. If boilers only last ten years, they're really not worth the money, are they?"
I could almost hear the shuffle of feet as he backed away from his phone in shocked silence. Then,
"OK, no problem," he said in a faint voice.

Waving what?

Quote of the week from tonight's episode of Holby City
"Did you happen to notice how long Nurse Tate had been absent? No, of course not. You and Dr Hamilton were too busy waving your genitalia at each other!"
Excellent!

Thomas the Tank Engine?

Here's some good news, a new, faster train service from Holyhead to Cardiff, noteworthy because the journey length will be four hours 17 minutes, which is nine whole minutes shorter than Y Gerallt Gymro service which runs in the morning.
Four hours, 17 minutes? I hesitate to say one could almost walk quicker, as this would add fuel to Keith's conviction that I am prone to exaggeration but, really, one could almost WALK quicker.
Still, at least we should be grateful that it is actually going to stop in Wrexham, which is not always the case with these services. But as there is only a single line section of track between Chester and Wrexham (Well, at one time, the welsh were not allowed inside Chester's walls after sundown, you know), the Holyhead to Birmingham service will now go via Crewe instead of Wrexham, which won't please Wrexham people wanting to go to Birmingham.
So, is this a cunning ploy to keep the welsh on their own side of Offa's Dyke or is Wales still struggling to hop into the 21st century. After all, here in Wales, we still don't do motorways.
Oh well, just off to get out the horse and cart...

Cake!

For her birthday, Kathy decided she would like some Cath Kidston china, so Claire bought her the cake stand and I bought her some plates. Her goal was to be able to do the 'ladies who do tea' thing with her friends.

And so she did, yesterday.

I shall make two comments about this:

1. She obviously didn't make the cakes herself, but cheated and asked Mr Kipling to do it instead.
2. I shall have to make sure Keith doesn't get wind of this or he will be very upset that she had cake and didn't invite him.

Baboons at the bottom of the garden

Keith and I were watching Baboons with Bill Bailey on ITV last night. It's an entertaining series and, last night, I was taken by the idea of people, going about their ordinary, everyday lives and also coping with a gang of baboons in the garden just waiting to break into their kitchen and steal any food they could find lying around.
"Paddy would get a bit of a shock if there were a couple of baboons on the garden fence instead of squirrels," I commented. "He'd think twice about charging into the garden to chase them."
Keith's mind was obviously still on the shots of said  baboons raiding the kitchen.
"Well, they'd be disappointed if they were looking for food in our kitchen!" he said.
Oooh! Nasty! Especially as he's the one who insisted on stocking up on wall to wall lettuce.

Taking the horse out for the day?

I have been out shopping this morning so I am a bit late with my post and John has got in first with this little item. The horse was apparently a Welsh mountain pony which generally stand under 12 hands high, but even so, Arriva trains didn't feel able to accommodate it. However, I remain unconvinced and I am sure that in pre 'Health and Safety' days when every inch of our lives was not controlled by rules and regulations  of varying degrees of sense and usefulness, the kindly guard would have said, "Come on, boyo," (or something like that), "no-one's looking, pop him in the guard's van and we'll say no more about it."
But I think the best part of the tale (no pun intended) is the reaction of the staff at Wrexham Maelor hospital when the man also took his horse there:
A spokesman for Wrexham Maelor Hospital said it was unable to do anything for the animal.
“We can confirm that a man did turn up with a horse in A&E, but we were unable to treat the horse,” he said.
Really, you couldn't make it up. However, I hope the Maelor then directed him a little further up the road and round the corner to Rhyd Broughton vetinary centre, where they treat a variety of animals, including horses.
And if a sheep can go to Slovenia in a car, why can't a horse go to Holyhead on a train?

Delightful

Last Thursday was my 'ladies who lunch' date but this time, Dad came too. We drove to the Park and Ride, as usual and then took the bus into Chester itself and walked through to Northgate Street, where we were to meet. Being one of those extremely unobservant people, I never take any notice of street names, so they mean little to me when it comes to finding my way around, but I had a rough idea of where we were heading, so I left Dad having a breather on a bench in Eastgate street, while I walked to the corner and back.

Of course, on my return, he was already being chatted up by a lady who didn't look too pleased to see me, but, eventually, we made our escape and went off to meet Gill and Julie and  had a very pleasant lunch.

Back  home, I got text messages from Gill and Julie saying how much they had enjoyed meeting him and I read them out to him.

"What did that one say? Delightful? Hmm, I'll have to remember that," he mused.