This has been an astonishing week. On Monday the doorbell rang. Wondering whether to hide behind the settee in case it was a sales person, decided it was a little early and took a chance.
It was a man who had come to read the electric meter. There have been visits in the past, rare, where such a man came and went away. Afterwards nothing happened.
The readings never made it to the supply company computer and my opinion was that they were checking to ensure that it was not covered in magnets or had some device to limit the record of use in the way recommended to me by many blokes in pubs.
After a succession of tiresome disputes in the past about direct debits, the estimates of use and the billing for a long time I have read the meter and then at one time phoned them in or recently entered them online.
Mostly this has gone well, but from time to time they have tried to slip an estimate past me, easily spotted because of the large difference, higher, in the size of the bill.
Then, only three days later in the post, came the latest bill that was due. It was amazing, I was transfixed, to use a polite word. It was for a figure said to be the reading and looked about right.
Grabbing the torch I was into the meter cupboard in seconds and then staggered out in a state of deep shock. The bill had been based on the actual reading. It must be many years since this last happened.
Out of ordinary politeness I went online to pay the bill. But the bank computer had thrown a hissy fit so I went back to the past, wrote a cheque and put it in the post.
I wonder if it will get there?