Yesterday, after my tragic failure to provide my daily bread I perused the internet in the hope of finding a spare part for the breadmaker. I made 2 discoveries.
1) Messrs Marks & Sparks no longer supplied their own brand of breadmaker.
2) There were no spares to be found for this model
Filled with even more despair I made a quick online search for a replacement. Having ascertained that there would be no fridge and freezer collection I then escaped from Chez Kojak to replenish supplies. I called to see my friendly farmer and as usual found him washing off traces of bovine end product so I did the usual self-service and left the payment by the cash tin. From there I continued on to a nearby Retail Park to follow up on my internet search. There I discovered that the supplier who seemed to have the most likely replacement at a favourable price had inconsiderately disappeared from the Retail Park and was now only operating online. It's erstwhile partners in retail were still there but their prices were far above the attractive price quoted on the ether. I did at least try to inspect the particular model which was on display but found it wedged into a shelf space much too small for it's height. I made several furtive attempts to free it and then wandered around adopting a prospective customer look. Not a sniff of an assistant! Where was CCTV when one needed it? I made a mental note that if I'd tried to hide the box under my coat and head for the exit I'd have been quickly rugby tackled to the ground by every assistant and their grandmother. Exit Kojak, disgruntled, stage left. On my return home I spent a fruitless hour or so searching for the receipt for the deceased breadmaker. Although I could not remember the date I had purchased the defunct machine my ageing brain cells did remember that I had exercised my abilities as a "grey surfer" and purchased it online. After a bit of sleuthing that would have impressed Monsieur Poirot I discovered my online account and with it a record of purchases. God bless M&S - I had 9 months left of their lovely 2 year guarantee! I rattled off an email immediately.
This morning, still mentally fatigued from yesterday's battles with breadmaker and recycleherren I still had to arise from the sprung edge 4 drawer etc. at an earlier hour than I felt appropriate to a retired gentleman of a certain age. During my ascerbic phone call to the fridge collectors I was promised that I would be first on the list for collection today and could expect a visitation soon after 9.30am. Now the freezer had been thoroughly dried out but there was a minute but mysterious drip from somewhere in it's innards. Desperate to give them no reason to refuse to gather it into their arms I had placed an old towel underneath and I continued to check this regularly and mop up any moist patches. I continued to check and mop until almost noon which is when they finally arrived. Luckily I was alert enough to hear a faint knock on the UPVC double glazed door or I might still be faced with the twin appliances glaring at me from where the dining table ought to have been. Is there some sort of recycling allergic reaction to doorbells? Have these minions been subjected to some unspeakable doorbell trauma in the past? Are they doorbell visually challenged? I quickly discovered that they are also allergic to doormats as I watched them stride across a muddy patch of grass and stomp straight into Chez Kojak without so much as a cursory wipe. Reluctant to jeopardise matters I kept my silence which, as anyone who knows me will tell, is an almost impossible thing for me to do. The operation was concluded and breathing a sigh of relief I closed the door and consigned the appliances to the cold.
There was no time to sit down of course as I had to search and remove the traces of the muddy outdoors which the sods, if you will pardon the pun, had kindly left as a souvenir. At least the lounge carpet benefitted from a more thorough application of the hoover than I am ashamed to say it had seen for some time. A celebratory spot of lunch was called for during which I espied and removed yet more particles of dough from yesterdays debacle. Quite how far and how wide the now crusty remnants had spread amazed me. A rain of half-mixed dough from halfway up the wall to below the belt. Some had even adhered to my spectacles... While we are on matters doughy I received a reply from M&S Customer Services - one of the few, I venture to suggest, where "customer" and "service" still mean something. I am to present the offending dough kneader at my nearest local store and hope that they will look more kindly on my plight than Marie Antoinette did when the citizens of Paris had a similar misfortune.
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