Location: Fareham, Hampshire, England
Summary: A light‑hearted story from my early days at British Gas, when a simple meter replacement turned into a mix‑up involving two identical cottages, a very confused neighbour, and an elderly lady hiding upstairs while I unknowingly worked in the wrong apartment.
The job
When I left school, I joined British Gas as an apprentice and eventually qualified as a gas service engineer. In those early years, I was part of a small team tasked with replacing every gas meter over twenty years old. For about eighteen months, my working life was nothing but driving from house to house, removing old meters and installing new ones.
Most jobs were straightforward. This one wasn’t.
The cottage
I pulled up outside a lovely old cottage set back from the main road, surrounded by a neat garden. The front door sat right in the middle of the building, and as I walked up the path, I noticed a handwritten note pinned to it addressed “To The Gas Man”.
The note explained that the lady of the house had taken her dog for a walk in the field next door. She said the kitchen door at the side of the cottage was open, that the meter was under the sink, and that I should help myself to tea and biscuits while I worked.
I walked around to the right-hand side of the cottage, found the open door, knocked, and stepped inside when no one answered. Sure enough, the meter was under the sink exactly as described. I turned off the gas, swapped the meter, purged the air, tested for leaks, relit the cooker and boiler, and everything checked out perfectly.
Still no sign of the lady, so I poured myself a cup of tea from the pot she’d left and sat at the kitchen table to fill in the paperwork. After finishing both the tea and the job sheet, I carried the old meter to the van, put a pickaxe through it as required, and tagged it for scrap.
The return
Just as I locked the van, the lady returned with her dog. She thanked me for getting on with the job while she was out and led me back through the gate toward the cottage.
That’s when things took a turn.
She walked to a door on the left side of the building, stepped into the kitchen, and immediately looked under the sink.
Her old gas meter was still there.
She turned to me, confused. I turned to her, confused. I asked why she had two kitchens and two meters. She asked why I’d been in the wrong one.
That’s when she explained that the cottage had been split into two identical apartments — mirror images of each other — each with its own kitchen and its own gas meter. The note she’d left on the front door was meant for her side of the cottage. I had gone into the other apartment entirely.
And the elderly lady who lived there, Mrs Jones, had been home the whole time.
Mrs Jones
We went through the connecting door between the two apartments to check on her. We found her upstairs, hiding in a bedroom.
She had heard me knock at the front door, then heard me walk around the cottage and knock on her open kitchen door. Being timid and not expecting anyone, she’d quietly slipped away and stayed hidden while I changed the meter, tested the gas, relit the appliances, poured myself a cup of tea, and filled in the paperwork.
She only came out when she heard her neighbour talking to me.
I had unknowingly done a full gas meter change in her apartment while she hid upstairs like a frightened mouse.
Putting it right
The lady whose meter should have been changed apologised repeatedly for the confusing note. I apologised to Mrs Jones for giving her the fright of her life. Then I had to fetch another meter, remove the brand‑new one I’d just installed, and fit it in the correct apartment. The old lady’s meter was due to be replaced later in the week anyway, so at least the job wasn’t wasted.
Both ladies were happy in the end, and I left with a story I knew I’d be telling for years.
A few weeks later, I returned for another job and saw they’d put a proper notice on the front door explaining that the cottage was now two separate apartments — each with its own nameplate and its own entrance.
A bit late for me, but very sensible.
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