Combinations of madness

Recently I moved house. The fallout of such a drastic measure is often that old things are found and discovered anew and over the weekend I found one such thing. My combi lock for my trusty Burton snowboard has travelled around the planet (at least as far as mileage goes). It’s long retirement in a box in an antic (and later a garage) had lead to one critical issue, I’d forgotten the combination. Now you would think that the number would have some meaning to me and I knew somewhere along the line I had reset it so what the hell would it be. I confidently put in the first eight 3 digit combinations that came to mind and had no luck on any of them. Once stumped I sat and distractedly banged through pretty much all of the combinations possible. Eventually, several hours later I give up and just randomly span the number clad wheels. Low and behold it opened eventually which lead to another mystery. Why did I pick the number that was now displaying on my opened lock? More to the point it got me thinking why didn’t I simply use my birthday? This lock has only ever been situated on the side of mountains attaching my snowboard to snowboard stands. The only people who know my birthday are my friends and family (this statement is questionable) and neither groups are the kind that are that interested in stealing snowboards. With this in mind does the fact that I didn’t use my birthday indicate that I simply don’t trust my mates or does it indicate a deeper sense of paranoia?
Obviously in situations like these you need to seek some sense, find a ground, a touchstone, a place of reason and sense. Unfortunately I chose the wrong person. The excuses for not using my birthday were even more paranoid than mine. The passport staff at the airport might know your birthday from your passport? Well yes they might but they are unlikely to follow me from the airport to the ski resort and then be able to judge from the cut of my jib the board inside my bag. Ahh but the hotel people could. Again yes they could but they would have to tail me up and down a mountain or hang around in bars and hope I turn up. Although this second option is appealing on some kind of level I very much doubt it would ever be the case.
So I’ve changed my code, it’s now something I will remember. As I’ll be using it on my bike and anyone on Facebook can and will hang around in pubs waiting for me to show up it’s not my birthday either. Roll on next year when I can do this all again.

Gas

Beware the health and safety demons.

Today we had our scheduled visit from the gas man to replace our really expensive pre-pay gas meter that we inherited from the previous owner. This meter is designed for people that struggle to pay there bills so I’m not really sure why the tariff is so amazingly high but yesterday it chugged through £5 in about as many hours.

Trouble is we inherited a gas meter without it’s protective box and I was informed upon greeting the engineers that they wouldn’t be replacing it because they are not allowed. If it’s not in a box they have to write you up a warning and turn your gas supply off. This was a little bit of a shock to me as it was their service engineer who pointed out the lack of cover and told me it was their responsibility to put something around it. What’s more the gas meter is located in such a position that it can’t have a box put around it. It’s too close to the electricity box and a lip in the wall. There is a clear space it could go but the British Gas engineers won’t move it there because it hasn’t got a box around it. So I’m stuck. They won’t replace the meter because I don’t have a box around it. I can’t put a box around it because they would have to move the meter and they won’t move the meter without a box. Better still I now have no gas supply. It’s obviously been that way since 2008 when they put the meter in with no box in a location where it can not be boxed but somehow I’ve now got to fix the situation.