That's Another Fine Mess

A small dose of schadenfreude, sit back and enjoy…

Firstly let me set the scene. Since Christmas, arriving home has consisted of the following ritual:
unlock the back door (hey, we are in Yorkshire, we wouldn’t dream of using the front door!), squeeze past the new oven, which is rather large, on account of it being packaged in a thick layer of polystyrene. If carrying large shopping bags, remember to flail around inelegantly whilst negotiating very small gap. Mutter a reminder to self that plumber must be rung and politely reminded about installing said oven.

After several weeks of waiting, the plumber arrived today. Hurrah! I was a bit worried that the new hob might cause problems, despite assurances from the shop that it would fit perfectly in the space currently occupied by the old one. Mr Plumber looked unconvinced and got out his tape measure and measured the hole in the worktop eleventy-nine times before announcing that all is hunky dory in the hob department. Result.

He then unpacks the new oven. Which doesn’t fit in the space left by the old one. Arrrghhh. Not a result then. Not at all.

So instead of a nicely fitted new oven and hob, I have a bloody great gap with no oven and a bloody great hole with no hob. This has allowed me to do some woodwork. Oh good, I always liked woodwork at school. We have spent the day removing cupboards and refitting them an inch further down the wall. We have found a rather decayed and disgustingly smelly dead mouse down the back of one cupboard. We have swept up gifts of poo from aforesaid mouse. I have gone right off wood-bloody-work. I have also gone right off Black Cat and Ginger Cat, the Bringers-Home of Live Rodents.

I have demanded to be taken out for dinner because we can make tea (as in nice cup of) but not tea (as in Yorkshire-speak for a meal consumed during the early evening). The good news is that Mr TLC and I ate a very nice dinner, so nice that we might just be going back there… tomorrow!

Speaking of which, tomorrow Joiner Cat will make a new, ever-so-slightly larger housing for the nice new oven. She will then plead with the plumber to return very, very soon, because she doesn’t like living on microwaved food or takeaways. Perhaps I could just eat salad, lots and lots of salad.

The annoying part is that the temperamental old oven has behaved perfectly ever since the new one arrived. Did it know its days were numbered?

Anyway, you will be less than pleased to know that I have taken photos of all this joyousness (apart from the dead mouse and the mouse poo – I have some standards), so if it drags on for too long, I will probably end up sharing them with you. Aren’t you lucky?

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