FOR the last week I smelt gas in an utility room, no say my husband I can’t smell anything, then two days after Christmas when the majority of the country is on holiday he smells it.

All action stations – rings the emergency gas who were brilliant and were there within the hour and after strict instructions on what not to do until they arrived.

All checks done, no leak, great news until it came to the moment to switch the boiler on and nothing completely dead, with profuse apologies of no heat for a few days off he went but he did leave us with hot water.

Rang the plumber but no one open to purchase a new part so no heat until New Year's Eve and probably not then.

Feeling despair I took to Facebook, well people can criticise it but my lovely friends around the town and villages took to their cars and, within an hour, four fan heaters we delivered and at least three more waiting if I needed them.

A miracle, until the doorbell rang and my husband answered the door.

I heard thank you and the door shut. Went to see who it was.

Oh he said, I thought you would know, remember I was two floors up, she was your age with dark hair think from the school, what school?

So panic, who do I return it to.

Spent next hour messaging everyone I could think of and eventually found my benefactor who was actually from St Mary’s Church and one of my best friends who came to our house two weeks ago.

Why do men always manage to make a stressful time more complicated?

Thank you to everyone, may 2019 be a great year for you and thank you for being such good friends.


Hessary Street