How I Learned to Stop Worrying and Love the LPG Gas Canister

Our organisation is contractually supposed to help us move into our new flat. Due to work pressures, the 'help' consisted of a twitchy guy and a small ute. He told us we got 'one trip, only one!' to move all the stuff in our flat. We loaded a mattress, bed, gas oven, fridge, mosquito net holder etc etc in a teetering tower on the back of the ute; mattress overhanging the cab's window. Fridge tipping precariously to the right. One piece of short rope used to tie it all. Of course the pièce de résistance was using our full LPG canister (for our gas oven) as the anchor for the whole sorry mess.

I so wish I had taken a picture.

Originally, the driver wanted me to ride in the back of the ute holding the fridge and gas canister in place...mke had a fit and said she did not want her husband to be blown up or squashed, or both. I was cool with a bit of a lark but, we deferred to her wisdom. We drove slowly to the new flat in a cold sweat, over bumpy roads while the fridge and gas canister bounced up and down . 'Very bad if Police see us' our driver intoned.

After a nailbiting quarter of an hour we got to the place, to find a host of workers fixing things in our new pad. They looked bemused at the terrified whiteys in the back of this moving tower of chattels. They were all cool about helping us unload. I like our new house. Pics to come. Still got some bits and pieces to run backwards and forwards, plus we have a long weekend tomorrow (end of Ramadan here) so might pop to Arusha for some fun.

But nice to ride a LPG bomb and survive.