And there was something wrong yesterday morning when bloganonymous Sheffield son went to out to work and discovered that his coal hole cover had disappeared overnight. He thought scrappers: I thought break-in. But either way it had gone, leaving a large hole in a dark passage to snap legs of postmen, neighbours, and friends. And maybe even swallow up the odd over-curious cat.
I rang BSS's partner who was unfazed, Actually she is super-smart and unfazed by anything, and I mean anything. She went out to measure and came back with a precise set of measurements and a complete description of the aperture, leaving me to cut steel with confidence.
And this is me cutting the steel with confidence and an angle grinder.
When I arrived with the new cover, super-smart partner had already fitted a chopping board with a plant pot on top for decorative effect. Thanks to S-SP's measurements, the thing fitted perfectly. And it reminded me of a childhood song in Sheffield:
We're rate daarn in't coil oil where t' muck slarts on't winders.
We've used all are coil up an' we're rate daarn t't cinders.
When't bum bailiff comes 'e won't know where t' find us,
Cos we're rate daarn in't coil oil where t' muck slarts on't winders
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