The return

Tigger and I arrived back in Islington this afternoon. The journey was long and several hours of it were spent in a cramped Virgin train seat but we survived and were glad to get home

If you want to know where we have been (none of you bothered to take a guess), you will have to wait a little longer. I recorded our trip on my trusty Nokia 9300 Communicator as usual and will edit it and post it in due course. In the meantime, you have a couple of days to try guessing where we have been.

The day before we left, we suddenly thought we had better defrost the fridge as it was so icy we were having trouble closing the door and the light hasn’t worked for months. (We think the switch has frozen.) Then we imagined the pools of water that would form on the floor as a result of the defrosting operation and tried inventing ingenious schemes to catch the water but failed to come up with one that had any real chance of working.

So Tigger had an inspiration.

Buy a new fridge.

Yep, things can be that simple if you have a Tigger around.

So off we went to Iceland and paid for a new fridge freezer. The damn thing’s taller than I am but what the heck. Think of all the cheese you can store in a thing that size. (By the way, I mean the food store called Iceland, not the country.)

We asked to have the fridge delivered the Monday following our return. I also phoned the Council who promised faithfully that if I left the old fridge outside, they would collect it and dispose of it. Job done, or so it seemed.

Until we got the phone call. I don’t really understand the phone call as it didn’t make sense. It asked could they deliver the fridge this Saturday instead of the following Monday because of stock problems. I said no, we are not there. Oh, OK, they said, leave it with us, we’ll think of something.

What they thought of was to phone me back and leave a voicemail saying that they no longer had any of the fridges we had bought and we would have to have another one instead. If they don’t have any of these fridges, then how could delivering it on Saturday instead of Monday solve the problem? That’s the part I don’t understand but maybe my holiday-befuddled brain is missing something.

So now I have to phone Iceland (still the food store, not the country) when I have a moment and negotiate a new make and model. In the meantime, we have no fridge. No even a fridge that runs every few minutes and makes a noise like a machine-gun. That one, by the way, is still outside in the front garden because the Council apparently did not come and collect it. These all too frequent cock-ups make me think of Catweazel and his lament “Nothing works!” (If you don’t know who Catweazel is, don’t worry about it, just concentrate of the “Nothing works!” bit.)

Tonight we dined at Art to Zen in Upper Street. Several times police vehicles went past with their sirens blaring. We realized how much we had missed them while we were away. It was very quiet there. “Now I know we’re home,” said Tigger as another set of blue lights went flashing past caterwauling its two-tone song.

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About SilverTiger

I live in Islington with my partner, "Tigger". I blog about our life and our travels, using my own photos for illustration.
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One Response to The return

  1. Oscarandre says:

    Ah, Catweazle and his electrickery…

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