In Memory of Mr Mugadza: Shot dead in June 1991(ST Anne’s (Goto) High School)

He was a master of music and a great teacher in sports. His work was outstanding and he accomplished many things in short years of time before the enemy came and destroyed his life forever. He was a great teacher and all who knew him loved him. His star had always out shined others. His work was of excellence. Wherever he went he was recognised for his good works and he could not missed out in the crowd for he was a great teacher. He always wore an infectious smile. His smile was a joy to many. He was a man who loved life and enjoys it and appreciates each day as it goes by. In his serenity he worshipped God and thanked him for a new day, for a new life, for a new beginning, for a wonderful family that God sets before him and for the abundance of happiness that came as a gift in lives of many and touched all who came by. He was the teacher who was loved by all school children and all those who pass through his hands. The community at large loved him and he was special, a rare gift, and a blessing to them. How could they not love him? He was a man of valour, a man of valued ethos, a man who taught their children to be better people in the world. In the community he had always give a hand to the things that matters their hearts.

In his time he humbled himself and God always see that his love to people will surpass all that the world could think of. Neither did we saw him angry. He worked peacefully and desired the best for his people and the world. He was a man who was not recognised at community level only but on higher places, at the epitome of the education. His personal records were crystal clear and his wonderful work mightily recognised in whatever capacity, for he was a man of integrity, a man of good ethos, a man who believes in building his nation and do his best in circles of time. He was the man whom I still vividly remember for I cried inconsolably when I heard his life had come to an end in short time of space. What an untimely death that stole where the heart lies and leaving the loved ones heartbroken.

Where would we look?  To the east, to the west, to the north and to the south in searching for the answers, to which nobody could answer them, for grieve had stolen that special love that we had always cherished, that love that made us to sustain or succumb the hardships. In grieving we release all the soft emotions and leaving the hard feelings rumbling in our stomachs. Mr Mugadza was a such a loving man, a teacher to those whom he taught , a father to his children and a husband to his wife and a colleague to his workmates, a child to those who bore him, a hero and a legend to those who loved and honoured his work. He was a blessing to the community at large. He was a star among his own people, but that star blacked out as the enemy shuttered its roots.

Mr Mugadza was quickly stolen away from the people he loved and the people who reciprocated his love. An enemy became the security guard and how controversial that the works did not correspond with the deeds. Did he think he was bare animal? What was in guard’s mind when he shot him? Mr Mugadza who had just came from a sports day and checking materials in his classroom, to see whether the children had organised it well. It was there at his classroom where he met his fate. All about him went in fractions but his good memories still lives in us and in those who cherished him. In bunch of cruelty, and in bunch of senseless, these evil deeds are  still performed everyday and we see them happening and we have no control over them as devil comes in form of a sheep. He steals, he destroys and he kills.

Who is hurt you or me? It’s for you to answer, for I was hurt and haunted for weeks and months. I know that day we huddled with other students at St Anne’s (Goto) High School, in Zimbabwe. We tried our best to comfort ourselves as grieve took control of our lives. Silently on a Sunday morning, a week after his death, we bade an everlasting farewell. He was buried peacefully in his homeland where he grew up and loved. Quietly we uttered words of comfort. May your Spirit Rest In Peace. Forever we remember you and forever go well.

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The Gun the killer.

English: Managing emotions - Identifying feelings

Managing emotions – Identifying feelings

I know you the gun, you are very pretentious, and you look as good as anything else as long no human hand touches you. The moment the human hand touches you and sets off your emotions you become a dreadful enemy. You explode voraciously and touch anything that comes across your way. You have no fear and you have no mercy. You destroy where the heart yearns. You don’t even understand how hurtful and traumatic it is for those who become childless, motherless, fatherless, orphans, widows and widowers.

What people see is the result of your fatal actions. Everywhere it was painted with blood, a fresh warm blood of their little children, of their beloved ones and the teachers. Hysteria strikes upon hearing the dreadful news. The parents shivered with terror and ran frantically towards the school hoping they will find their children still fine but only to be greeted with blood, everywhere it’s blood. They shout screams of despair and saw their little ones lie in cold-blooded. They huddled their lifeless bodies praying in their hearts if things could be reversible but it is no-more reversible hour, because you gun you have done your dreadful job. The parents cried out: “God why have you let it happen? And why our babies?” They look everywhere for answers but they don’t get the answers. Where would they get the answer? When you gun you had gone back to your pretentious shell and looking good as anything else before the human hand sets off your emotions.

The child is dead. The parents are traumatically devastated. The child that had always brought angelic smiles and lit up the house with happiness had been viciously stolen forever from their lives. What an untimely death, to steal the hopes of the many, the hopes of the child and the hopes of the parent? Their child they have always envisaged that one-day would have a beautiful life. BUT you gun you destroyed that vision and left a big void in the lives of many that can never be filled again.

One morning you a visited a school, there was serenity the time you arrived, like the world at peace. When you entered the school your emotions were set off, the human hand behind you, set off and there was rampage at school, a dreadful massacre . For it was not a child but many children, their teachers and the headmaster perished and it was unforgivable action. The whole world witnessed the cruelty episode of this nature and grieved with the parents. “Whom do we blame the gun or the human?” The humans asked themselves.

I know you have the answer, gun. It’s ready on your mouth to defend your actions. “It wasn’t me,” you said. I acted under duress because the human had put his hand behind on set off my emotions.  I exploded in volumes but if it wasn’t the human who put his hand on me, I would be as good as anything else. But if you could give me a minute of your time, I will tell you a story that is inscribed in my heart”. “Go on, Gun, tell your story,” the humans said.

“For generations and generations,” the gun begun to tell his story, “the human being had taken mindful of me. He took a step closer when he invented my first ancestors. He took pride in my ancestors and thought they would bring social securities and a powerful kingdom ship. As the human mind become eventful, he designed and created more and more of my strong and resistant of my ancestors. The human saw how beneficial and productive were my ancestors. “How could this be more effective to gain stability and wealth?” The human asked himself as he sat down and put his head on his lap and by the time he woke up he thought he had a vision. It was a good vision. The vision was about mass production, yielding more in one goal. He became excited and laughed all the way to his home. He pounded his chest like he was pounding a drum and celebrated like African celebrations.

The human went ahead with his plan and set out a massive machinery plant where my ancestors were produced in large quantities. They were arsenal of arsenals produced everyday. The human was very happy with on going production and thought he could make more money and his life comfortable as profits soared. The human marketed my ancestors to his friends, family, neighbours and in far lands around the world. Every time the human heard of new war in different regions he became excited as flow of wealth was consistently coming at his doorstep. It means more weapons in demand and the human forget the people killed by us the guns  where of his race. BUT the human didn’t care enough for he wanted money and secure inheritance for his family and great, great-grandchildren. He never thought that other people of his race would want the same privileges as his family and they never liked the weaponry of his creations for it destroyed millions. They wanted to live in harmony. How could they live in harmony when their neighbour put his hand on the gun and set off the emotions?

The human continued to experiment and he found it fascinating and the human was able to produce a finest gun of my calibre. As guns we are all uniquely talented depending on what style but all our action falls on one common denominator, which is to KILL. I wouldn’t kill without a human putting his hands on me. I want to be good for I know my actions are fatal and traumatic. But how can I be good when human hand touches me to kill his race? I wish I could talk a language that a human would understand me. I wish I could say stop USING ME in killing angels, little children, and innocent blood. I wish I could say my ancestors had enough of human mercenaries. I wish I could tell the human, stop the invention of me and look around and see the catastrophic you have brought to your race. War after war, and every Jack and Jill can buy me to use me for the wrong things.

I wish not to be used. What a cruel world, with cruel minds, filled with greediness, and never be at peace. I wish I could hide myself indefinitely from the human hand for it’s not fit for purpose when it sets off my emotions for the wrong things. How I wish to live in harmony without labelling my name. Did you hear my verdict for my fatal actions blame the human? I am sorry to those I hurt and I wish I could remove myself without causing grievances to anyone of you. It saddened me to see you all crying, terrified of me because of one man who set off my emotions. May your beautiful souls rest in peace?  Always remembered for you beautiful smiles and deeds. The teachers I salute you and you died protecting these children but the enemy was powerful. Rest in peace and remain protecting them high above in the sky.”

The Housebreaker

I was walking by and I saw you going between the two vans at that house. Somehow your behaviour was very suspicious and it sent a signal to my brains that I should standby and watched your actions. I watched every movement you took but you never dared to turn around. Probably you would have seen me and would have stopped your dreadful actions. Was it a sinful act?  Yes at that time when you broke that window, you broke the law. At first you confused me with your actions, by making thinking you are the owner of the house and you have forgotten something very important. Your dreadful actions betrayed you and did not tally with that of an owner. I saw you lifting up your fits and punched the window with almighty force. The window responded with a shattering sound. I saw you the housebreaker jumping in and I strayed on the road wondering to call the police or not. Finally I made up my mind and dialled 999.

In five minutes the police had sent their escort to talk to me. I wanted to hide my identity from you for I could not trust a housebreaker like you for you can destroy anything that comes across your face. Another team of police force was on that house you break, taking forensic evidence. Unfortunately you were nowhere to be found and I blamed myself for procrastinating my actions. It should have been easy to catch the meat. Red handed, is the common phrase. My heart was broke and it went out to the family whom you have ruined their securities. The police were able to get in touch with the family. After giving a good description of you and detailed information of how you sneaked into the house they let me go. But for some days and months, memories of your dreadful actions rang vividly in my mind. I wondered where you had gone? The police updated me that they could not trek you. Yes it seemed like yesterday but it is still fresh like yesterday. How I wonder who you are? In a good way you have given me something to talk about and to write about and able to release my feelings.  Housebreaker next time I see you I won’t give you time to breath. The chains of bondage will follow you then you will call for deliverance and there you shall be saved.

The boy, Zuze, beat the letter with anger..

A lovely boy named Zuze worked for a white farmer in 1930s in Zimbabwe. He  had always worked hard and delivered the best results, and his master was pleased with him. He promoted him to be the tea boy. He did all sorts errands in the farmhouse. One day the farmer, Mr Smith, called Zuze to his office.  Zuze went in to meet him and discussed at length the developments of things at the farm.

“I have called you”, said Mr Smith and paused for a while as if he was hesitating to say out the words while his eyes were squared upon Zuze. “I have got some task for you and the task is very simple, I want you to start collecting our farm groceries from a local shop dealer, Mr Brown. He is a good friend of mine and I trust you to do the job well”. Upon hearing the good news, Zuze, smiled and nodded his head in agreement. That’s all I want to say to you, Mr Smith spoke and dismissed his servant, Zuze. Zuze was delighted and he was eager to start the job as soon as he could.

The following day Zuze woke up early and as usual and he took a shower in the iron-corrugated bathroom, which was next to the farmhouse.  He whistled a joyful song as warm water streamed down his body. He was happy and the early birds joined him in his singing. “Mother Africa, you are so beautiful,” he said and wrapped up himself with a big towel that the farmer had bought for him a year ago. He went in his thatched bedroom and put on his best clothes. After looked himself on the mirror he smiled with a smile of satisfaction.

He left for the local shop and did the grocery errands with Mr Brown who liked his enthusiasm and thought it was infectious. Mr Brown had always communicated with his friend, Mr Smith through letters. The first few months Zuze did his job with a touch of excellence. Then one day after he had collected the grocery, he felt tempted to eat one of the loaves. He pulled out a loaf of bread and sat on an old log, which was lying under a huge fig tree. He scrupulously ate it all. He felt energised and continued with his journey to the farm. At the farm, Mr Smith, was waiting anxiously but this time with a purpose. Mr Smith  had begun to worry for Zuze that he had taken so long to come back to the farm than other days. This kind of worry  had strained him each time he checked his wrist watch he thought Zuze might have fallen sick on the way, but he was surprised to see him from a distance that he was in a gaily mood. He received him and asked for the letter from Mr Brown.

Zuze handed over the letter. Mr smith read the contents of the letter. Later he packed some of the food in the pantry and discovered two loaves of bread were missing. “It should have been a dozen of loaves?” he spoke to himself loudly. “Did I miscount?” he wondered and started again recounting the number of loaves and he did for several times until he was satisfied that two loaves of bread were missing. He had made up his mind that he would write a letter to Mr Brown and ask why two loaves of bread were missing.  He wrote the letter that afternoon and gave it to Zuze the following day to deliver to Mr Brown. Zuze carried it and delivered the letter. Mr Brown was shocked and he replied explaining that he had given Zuze a dozen of loaves. In his reply he had suggested Zuze might have eaten it. He asked Mr Smith that he should question his servant about the two loaves. He was sincere and apologised and that he added two extra loaves for his friend.

Zuze was given a small parcel of grocery that day to take to the farm and with a letter to deliver to his master, Mr Smith. When Zuze arrived he handed the letter to his master, Mr Smith, who quickly tore off the envelope and read the letter. Silently he moved closer to Zuze who was watching him like a hawk.

“This letter is saying that you might have eaten two loaves of bread that went missing yesterday. What do you say of this accusation, Zuze? Mr Smith asked and looked straight into Zuze’s eyes. “Did I hear you well, Mr Smith?” Zuze shook his head in disbelief. “You said this letter told you that yesterday I ate the bread?” “Yes it is as you said, Zuze,” Mr Smith said and stepped a distance away from his servant and observed his body language. Zuze paused and thought of the bread he ate and that there was no one around but the letter saw him. “It was a beggar’s belief that the letter had eyes and a mouth to speak,” Zuze thought of it silently. “So, Zuze, did you eat the bread?” Mr Smith queried him. “If the letter said so, I will say yes because there was no one other than me and the letter.

Mr Smith looked at Zuze with incredulity. He had trusted him and he had breached that trust in a short time. “Can I have the letter, Mr Smith?” Zuze asked as he extended his hand towards Mr Smith. “I want to check on the letter and to know  what else it had said about me?” Mr smith quietly handed the letter to Zuze. “Zuze”, Mr Smith called out, “Bring it back to me once you finished reading it. “Ok, boss,” Zuze spoke and walked away to a nearby bush.

Zuze retrieved the letter from his pocket and started to give a lecture to the letter. “Everyday,” he began. “I handled you well and carried you in my pocket and never treated you bad. I always treated you with respect. I have always taken you to Mr Brown and Mr Smith in good shape. I never insulted you nor spied on you but today I am going to teach you a good lesson then you will know who is Zuze.” He spoke whilst the other hand was busy pruning a small branch of the tree and he finally branched it off.

“My name is Zuze and I am going to beat you up. Then after that you won’t spy on me. Do you hear me?” Zuze started to beat the letter and each slash on the paper was tearing off the letter. “You see, you are not even strong enough to defend yourself yet you are good at reporting others”. He beat it until it was no more. “You see you just disappeared from the surface of the earth easily and I am still standing. You are no more and I won’t carry you in my pocket forever.

When he finished he turned around and saw Mr Smith close by and shaking his head. “He is dead. I killed him. He thought he was a notorious guy.” “Whom did you kill?” Mr Smith asked with a curiosity tone. “Your spy is dead, Mr Smith, Zuze said with a triumphant voice. “Who is my spy, Zuze?” Mr Smith was now more inquisitive. “Oh, the letter-it is dead. I beat him to pieces,” Zuze responded and pounded on his chest with his fist. Mr Smith looked around and saw the bits and pieces of the letter scattered everywhere. Once more Mr Smith shook his head in disbelief. He cursed himself. “How on earth did I assume that Zuze was literate and competent?” His assumption had gone wrong and the caution bells were ringing. Immediately he knew it was time to teach his servant basic literate skills.

“Zuze,” Mr Smith called his name. “The letter you destroyed was not a spy. Mr Brown wrote the letter and in his own words he had suggested that you might have eaten the bread. “Wait, Mr Smith,” Zuze said with an authoritative voice. “Earlier, you said the letter had told you that I have eaten the bread, isn’t it? So if the letter had said that so where does Mr Brown comes in? I don’t understand it at all.” “Well”, Mr Smith tried to explain. “There is a plain paper, he pulled out a plain paper from his pocket. Look here, Zuze can you see anything on this paper? It’s white”. “Good. Are there any small drawings you have seen on this paper?” Mr Smith asked again. “No.” Zuze said. “The one you killed did it have some small drawings?” Mr Smith asked. “Yes, and the drawings were of different shapes and black in colour,” Zuze said with enthusiasm. “Very Good Zuze, you are spot on. The small drawings of different shapes were the words that came out from Mr Brown’s mouth and drew it on the paper. The small drawings of different shapes drawn by Mr Brown became the letter because they carried a message. The message he composed from his heart and he is the one who thought you might have eaten the bread. So I was able to read each drawing and I understood it.”

Zuze was amazed his mouth was wide open with awe. “Is that small drawings a language of white people only for them to communicate?”  He asked with interest and he wanted to know more of what he was missing. His master, Mr Smith, was a kind man. “No, it’s not a language for white people only. It is a language for all mankind”. “How could I learn it? Zuze asked and came to sit next to his master. “I am sorry, he apologised. I was feeling hungry and tempted to eat the loaves of the bread. At first I thought I would eat only one but it was very delicious.”  “I have forgiven you, Zuze, but you should have said it yesterday and I would have understood you. Look where we have reached today because of lack of transparency between us,” Mr Smith said.

“As from tomorrow, Zuze, I am going to teach you to draw the words and when you are good enough, I will promote you to become a teacher. It is from there that you shall start to teach other farm workers to write and to read. This farm will be a prosperous one. I am going to build a local school so that every child would benefit.” Zuze was thrilled with the news and it spread like a veld fire that Zuze would be a teacher in some months to come. It pleased the community and when they met they sang and danced with the joy of appreciation for the new things to come. Zuze and His master developed a strong bond and their plans were successful and everyone benefited.

 

Same order

A black couple went in Jameson Hotel, in Harare, for a nice meal. The husband as always wanted to impress his wife and ordered the meal of the day. The couple chatted amicably as they waited for their meal and sipped their wine. After 20 minutes of waiting the food was brought to their table and started eating. In the middle of eating they saw a white couple entering the hotel and ordered their meal and they came and sat next to their table. In few minutes the white couple meal was delivered and it looked more delicious and attractive than the black couple’s food.

They black couple started to eat slowly and throwing side-glances over their neighbours. The white couple finished their food in time and the husband called out for the waiter: “Same order, waiter,” the white man called out. “OK, boss, the waiter said and rushed to the kitchen. Immediately the waiter brought the food on their table and the black couple noticed that the white couple were on delicious and attractive meal again.

 The black couple was yearning for this kind of meal and as the saliva drenched on their lips. In the end the husband from the black couple called out: “Same Order,waiter”. “Ok, boss” the waiter answered back and dashed into the kitchen. After few minutes the waiter brought the food to the table of the black couple. On glance the husband and wife bounced back with shock. The husband was up before time and pointing to the waiter with a shivering finger. “I said Same Order, and you brought the same food, we have eaten, sadza and chicken intestines. How could you treat us like that? I brought here my wife here to eat the best. Do you understand young man? The husband was now manhandling the waiter on his throat. These white chaps, he spat out saliva and roared with anger, they called out “Same Order” and you brought them delicious, attractive, meal and not us. This is our country, and we should not be treated less like this, these are foreigners whom you give a lot of respect. Now I am going back with my wife really sad because you could not give us “Same Order.” The waiter had soaked it all and understood that these black chaps misunderstood the meaning of same order. He calmly asked the man to release him and that he could explain in the mother language the meaning of “Same Order.”  “I will only release you if you promise to give us “Same Order”. “Ok, I will do it,” said the waiter.

 When released the waiter explained calmly in Shona the meaning of “Same Order” and the black couple understood it finally and they had the last laugh in the hotel. Their laughter echoed in the whole building and it was infectious to the extend that all diners ended up laughing with them without knowing the root of this laughter. The husband and wife hugged each other and hugged the waiter and laughed a laugh of lifetime. The waiter finally went to the kitchen and told him to make a similar dish as of white man and he would pay the bill for his friends. A durable friendship of lifetime was created upon that day. Thanks to “Same Order”

The God of Adoration.

I worship you father, the father who sits on the highest throne. I honour you, Jehovah, the Creator of heavens and earth. The one who modelled me from the dust and breathed in my nostrils for me to live. The mighty King and King of all kings. When I look to my left I adore you. When I look to my right I adore you. When I look down I adore you. When I look up to the heavens I adore you. How I love to be loved by you Lord.

In my sickness you have healed me, In my emptiness you have filled me, In my hunger you have fed me, In my thirstiness you have quenched, In my loneliness you have provided me with a companion. When I cried out you have comforted me. When I felt deserted you filled up the gap. When the enemy wanted to destroy me you stood before me and scattered my enemies with their weapons. When people saw me like nothing, you saw greater things in me. When burdened you lifted up my burdens. High up in your arms you carried me all the way and crossed the seas and the oceans and climbed up the mountains. How I adore you Lord of the lords.

Upon that day and upon that time I knew Lord that you have chosen me among other sheep and I feel you everyday: In my dreams, in my visions, in my daily walks and my daily prayers. I have heard your soft whispers and words of wisdom and understanding flowing from your mouth to my ears and I have heard every single word you said. There are times when you visited me in my dreams and you made me preach your word to a sea of multitude and in my preaching I was filled with compassion and many were healed. At one stage Lord you made me to tell people that who ever worships Satanism shall be wiped out. I woke up in the middle of preaching and yet the same week you wanted to confirm that you have spoken to me. I read an article from Internet: It stated a couple of people from Congo who wanted to register a Satanism church in Zimbabwe and they were refused and made to be deported. They believed there was no harm in worshipping in Satanism as they have done it for long in their country of birth. But in your word father you said: Every Knee shall bow and every tongue shall confess that you are the Lord of the Lords. There is no other gods but you Alone.

Your word says in the book of  2Timothy3:16,17; All scripture is God-breathed and is useful for teaching, rebuking, correcting, and training in righteousness, so that the man of God may be thoroughly equipped for every good work. I believe in you Lord that you want me to be a missionary and ambassador of your word and spread the gospel to every corner of the world so that many souls may be healed. So that many souls may know you as Lord, as Saviour, as Messiah, as Jehovah Nissi, as Jehovah-Shalom, as Jehovah Jireh, as Jehovah Rapha, as God of abundance, as God of blessings, as God of Israel, as God of war. Father with all that is within me I shall reach out to every soul and I shall preach boldly that let who have the ear let him hear

 

Free Grants and Funding for Loft and Wall Cavity Insulation!!!…. Rush for it while the stock lasts!!!.

I am carrying a basketful of good message for you to benefit. I felt I should let everyone know and because so many people are very sceptical if someone says it’s completely free? I do understand them because some people have been duped in the past believing it’s completely free only to realise they were going to pay probably loads of money after a contract or deal has been sealed believing it was entirely free. It has happened to me before and I felt cheated and I paid a hefty bride prize for being fooled. It happens because there are some rogue people out there who wants to get rich quickly. They go out and trick people, because majority of us wants things for free and the cost is higher than you would have bought it.

My message is simple and on my spare time I work closely with the government as a Free Energy Surveyor, helping people to secure free grants and funding for loft and cavity wall insulation. The government had made a direct mandate to all energy suppliers to insulate all houses in UK and it’s not happening in this nation alone but to the rest of Europe.

Who will Benefit?

  • Everyone in UK has to benefit from these grants and the funding.The people who live in council and housing association houses I would say to you if your house is not insulated it is the responsibility of the council and the housing association to make sure your house is insulated.

What is a cavity wall?

  • Most modern houses are generally constructed of two masonry walls (brick or block), with at least 50mm air gap or “cavity” in between them.

What are the advantages of Loft and Cavity Wall Insulation?

  • Around a third of all heat lost in an un-insulated homes is lost through walls.
  • Cavity wall insulation is one of the best to reduce the amount of energy you need to heat your home. In a year you have saved between £120-£150.
  • Keeps your house warmer.
  • Reduces the cost of your bills.
  • Reduces carbon emission and
  • It increases the value of your property.

I am not the homeowner I am renting(private tenants) do I qualify for the grants?

Private tenants you automatically qualify as long that house needs a loft insulation or a cavity wall insulation. Why? The reasons being that you are the one who is currently staying in that house and paying high bills because the house is not insulated. Most of you, you huddled or wrap up yourselves with blankets to keep yourselves warm especially in this season of wintertime. To secure the grants you simply need the permission of your landlord in form of a letter and his signature. You may be on any benefit such as  job seeker allowance, child tax benefit, pension, disability allowance and still you qualify for free as long you provide a valid evidence of your benefit letter.

Do Landlords qualify?

Landlords you qualify even if you have hundreds of houses and there are tenants living in your properties. The name that secures the grant is for the tenant living on that particular address. You only sign the landlord agreement form and it is done. After all it’s your property that is going to increase value once insulated. So don’t be mean when your tenants ask for your permission because you  would be  the one to benefit more and hence you would want the comfort of your tenant to live happily without catching pneumonia by proving a warm home. Remember a customer is always a King.

How do you know that you loft need insulation?

  • Go in your loft today with a camera.
  • Take few pictures of your loft in different sides.
  • When the picture shows floor joist or plank exposed it shows that it needs to be insulated. The loft automatically qualifies for free grant and the funding.
  • Some houses are  insulated ten to twenty years back. There is a high need for them to be insulated.
  • There is new regulation that all houses should be insulated to a thickness of 200mm.
  • So if it’s 60mm -120mm. It definitely needs to be insulated or topped up.

As a Free Energy Surveyor, I would come to your house regardless of the postcode and have a survey in your loft or on your external walls. Not all walls need to be insulated because some have a solid wall like of Yorkshire bricks. If it needs to be insulated I will let you know at that particular time. I will take specific measurements for your loft and house and the rest is finished on the paper and secure you a free grant and funding the very moment. Some had always wanted to kiss me because they felt I was like an angel brought to their house at the right time and they are happily enjoying the fruits of insulated houses and cut down their bills. Some people had always screamed with happiness the moment I stepped at their doorsteps: “You are welcome in our house and we have been waiting for you for a long time” I feel the appreciation and the need to help.

Loft that need to be insulated.

Loft that need to be insulated.

It is food for thought to live in a cold house and get pneumonia or live in a warm house and live happily ever after.

Send me pictures of your loft on my phone or Facebook and your contact number. You can inbox me. Email: e1chawaz@hotmail.co.uk. Send me pictures of your lofts. I will respond to you. Procrastination is the thief of time. Do it now if you can? Opportunity like this should not be missed after I have fully explained to you the benefits. If you live in a council house or housing association, please do not contact me but get in touch with your council or the housing association. Thank you and hopefully you have benefited something from reading this article.(Greater Manchester, Liverpool, I am your neighbour. Call me you will get the fastest results) Other post codes you are freely to call me. (Landlords and letting agents be in touch with me.)