Except it was Tuesday evening.
Soon after this gasman departeth, it was clear the house had no heating, and no hot water.
Despite repeated application of the reset knob, and multiple expletives, nothing availeth.
Misery me! The choice was freezing to death or — ta-dah! — a rapid departure to the Hole in the Wall to be warmed, fed and watered.
And so to bed.
The arrival of experts (builders, preparing for the new kitchen installation) on Wednesday morning had the matter solved and resolved in moments.
The gasman had left the main gas-cock turned off.
All of which casts a new glimmer on Hilaire Belloc’s little ditty:
Lord Finchley tried to mend the Electric Light
Himself. It struck him dead: And serve him right!
It is the business of the wealthy man
To give employment to the artisan.