Yesterday I was a bit over-zealous about cleaning down the sides of the snugly fitted-in gas stove. I rocked it forward, and saw a flexible hose, which I guessed was the gas line. I slid it towards me a little and ... smelt gas. I had broken or dislodged something. The flexible hose was the exhaust outlet, while the gas comes in via a rigid copper pipe. GAH! I must have been studying cloud formations when the ironclad rule NEVER MOVE A GAS STOVE was announced. I have been living with this one for 6 years, but only now had I felt the cleaning urge to the point that I was moved to move it.
So today we had a visit from a very nice gasfitter named Ben. He was polite, thorough and tidied up after. I heartily recommend him. People who know Tasmanian footy might know him as a stalwart defender for years for the Glenorchy Magpies. A safe pair of hands with the gas appliances or bringing the ball out of the back half.
His name? Careless, Ben Careless.