And thembulbs they use – they keep banging and flashing.”
“Faulty wiring, I’ll bet,” I said. “If lights keep flashing or bulbs keep blowing, it’ll be old wiring. They should get new wiring fitted right through the house. But back to you – I reckon you’d like it.”
“Them ’lectric fellers said they’d fix me up wiv an estimate ,” he said. “What’s that mean?”
“It means they’ll come around your house and buildings to examine everything, and then tell you what’s needed – how much wire, for example, how many plugs and sockets they recommend and that sort of thing. The Electricity Board will send you a letter telling you what it will cost.”
“And would I have to get it?”
“Not if you didn’t want to,” I assured him. “The estimate will be free – they come along and measure up, that’s all. For nowt.”
“They said they would come this Friday, unless I said no.”
“Let them come,” I said. “At least you’ll know what it will cost you. You might say no when you learn what the cost is, but at least you’ll have an opportunity to be fitted with electricity.”
Stanley George agreed to this. I left him and it was another fortnight before I returned to his farm. I popped into his workshop as usual, and the inevitable cup of tea appeared. Millie stayed with us for a chat.
“Well?” I asked him. “Did they estimate for your electricity ?”
“By!” he said with feeling. “By, that was a to-do, that was. Two fellers came with rulers and instruments and they went right round that house of mine, and right round these buildings . It took ’em ages, I can tell you. They went through ivvery room doonstairs, and then upstairs. I was right behind, watching from t’bottom to t’top, and do you know, they started to measure every bedroom. Well, Mr Rhea, we’ve seven bedrooms in this aud house, and I can’t see t’sense in having ’lectric in every room, can you?”
“It’s the normal practice,” I told him.
“It seems daft to me,” he shook his head. “I reckon all I would need would be one light on t’landing. It would shine into ivvery room upstairs, eh? I can’t see t’sense in havinglights in every bedroom.”
“It’s convenience,” I said. “You enter your bedroom, switch on the light and get ready for bed …”
“Aye,” he said, “That’s it. I like reading in bed, and so does our Millie. Just imagine – we’d get settled in, all nice and snug, and then we’d have to get out and paddle across t’floor to put t’lights out. By my way of thinking, if we had one light on that landing, it would show us upstairs and we could use candles at our bedsides, like we allus have. We could switch t’landing light off, take our candles across to t’bedside and read till we felt like nodding off. Then blow t’candles out. That way, you keep your feet warm.”
Try as I might, I could not convince him that it was better to have lights in every room, nor could he appreciate the value of an overhead switch at the bedhead. I do not know what his estimated cost was, but he did tell me it was based on a full system downstairs, with power and light installed in his workshop, but only one light on the stairs. There were to be no lights in the bedrooms. He’d made his mind up about that, and the estimate was made on those terms.
He had the electricity installed to his desire. I called late one afternoon and learned it had been in working order for about ten days. The men had wired the house and he had a solitary bulb, without a shade, at the top of the staircase, from where it shone into all seven bedrooms. He had relented a little because the bathroom contained an electric bulb. Downstairs , the system was complete and Millie had a brand new washing machine, cooker, kettle, iron and other essential modern household goods. It must have cost Stanley George a fortune, but I knew he was well off.
“Well?” I asked, settling at his side. “How’s the new
“Faulty wiring, I’ll bet,” I said. “If lights keep flashing or bulbs keep blowing, it’ll be old wiring. They should get new wiring fitted right through the house. But back to you – I reckon you’d like it.”
“Them ’lectric fellers said they’d fix me up wiv an estimate ,” he said. “What’s that mean?”
“It means they’ll come around your house and buildings to examine everything, and then tell you what’s needed – how much wire, for example, how many plugs and sockets they recommend and that sort of thing. The Electricity Board will send you a letter telling you what it will cost.”
“And would I have to get it?”
“Not if you didn’t want to,” I assured him. “The estimate will be free – they come along and measure up, that’s all. For nowt.”
“They said they would come this Friday, unless I said no.”
“Let them come,” I said. “At least you’ll know what it will cost you. You might say no when you learn what the cost is, but at least you’ll have an opportunity to be fitted with electricity.”
Stanley George agreed to this. I left him and it was another fortnight before I returned to his farm. I popped into his workshop as usual, and the inevitable cup of tea appeared. Millie stayed with us for a chat.
“Well?” I asked him. “Did they estimate for your electricity ?”
“By!” he said with feeling. “By, that was a to-do, that was. Two fellers came with rulers and instruments and they went right round that house of mine, and right round these buildings . It took ’em ages, I can tell you. They went through ivvery room doonstairs, and then upstairs. I was right behind, watching from t’bottom to t’top, and do you know, they started to measure every bedroom. Well, Mr Rhea, we’ve seven bedrooms in this aud house, and I can’t see t’sense in having ’lectric in every room, can you?”
“It’s the normal practice,” I told him.
“It seems daft to me,” he shook his head. “I reckon all I would need would be one light on t’landing. It would shine into ivvery room upstairs, eh? I can’t see t’sense in havinglights in every bedroom.”
“It’s convenience,” I said. “You enter your bedroom, switch on the light and get ready for bed …”
“Aye,” he said, “That’s it. I like reading in bed, and so does our Millie. Just imagine – we’d get settled in, all nice and snug, and then we’d have to get out and paddle across t’floor to put t’lights out. By my way of thinking, if we had one light on that landing, it would show us upstairs and we could use candles at our bedsides, like we allus have. We could switch t’landing light off, take our candles across to t’bedside and read till we felt like nodding off. Then blow t’candles out. That way, you keep your feet warm.”
Try as I might, I could not convince him that it was better to have lights in every room, nor could he appreciate the value of an overhead switch at the bedhead. I do not know what his estimated cost was, but he did tell me it was based on a full system downstairs, with power and light installed in his workshop, but only one light on the stairs. There were to be no lights in the bedrooms. He’d made his mind up about that, and the estimate was made on those terms.
He had the electricity installed to his desire. I called late one afternoon and learned it had been in working order for about ten days. The men had wired the house and he had a solitary bulb, without a shade, at the top of the staircase, from where it shone into all seven bedrooms. He had relented a little because the bathroom contained an electric bulb. Downstairs , the system was complete and Millie had a brand new washing machine, cooker, kettle, iron and other essential modern household goods. It must have cost Stanley George a fortune, but I knew he was well off.
“Well?” I asked, settling at his side. “How’s the new
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