Wood heat.

Author:Beresford, David


Heating a house with skids has always seemed like a good idea to me, since these are free for the asking at almost every lumber yard or warehouse. Often they are made from some poor grade of maple or oak, but I once built a crib out of mahogany from a skid that had held bags of cement. A few (more than a few?) years ago, a friend of mine was in a similar position to exercise thrift. Allan and his wife Wendy had just had their fourth child. They were renting an old Victorian home in a soon-to-be-fashionable neighbourhood. Allan had a new teaching job that fall and, like us, he was always ready for a good deal. Since I drove a truck for a brick and coal yard in town, I figured I could work out a deal on some of the hardwood skids that were being piled behind the bricks so I called round at Allan's house.

"Allan, I was cleaning up at work, and the boss said I might be able to get you some skids; do you want any?" I asked.


"Sure!" said Allan keenly.

"How many do you think you'll need?"

"If they're hardwood, as many as you can get for me," he answered, warming up to the idea. "You can pile them in the backyard. There is a lane way back there that comes from the street."

"Leave it to me, and tell Wendy to be ready with some coffee."

"Kenny," I said at work the next morning to the yard foreman, "You know those old skids piled up behind the bricks? Can I drop some off at a friend's house? They are renting and just had their fourth kid and are kind of finding money tight. It would be a real favour to them, and it is not out of the way."

"Where is their house?" Kenny asked, and I told him.

"Do you think it will really help them?"

"I sure do!" I pitched it strong.

"Then you just leave this to me, Davy," said Kenny, "I'll bring them some skids myself in the little Ford. You will be too busy doing the out-of-town run today. We have a backlog of orders going out to Cottesloe."

I checked my load. I would be gone for the whole day by the looks of it.

When I got back at the end of the day, Sam came across the gravel to chat.

"I took some skids to your friend's house today," said Sam with a smile. "They have a nice place" He turned and walked away chuckling.

I pondered his words as I biked home. My wife Theresa met me at the door. "What in the world were you thinking? Have you gone mad? Do you want Wendy and Allan never to talk to us again? Is that your plan? You get over there right now and apologize--how could you be so stupid?"...

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