When we arrived at the London, flat after being away for a few months, we heard our fridge/freezer wheezing.
It sounded as though it was on a respirator. The heavy breathing was distressing, as an asthma sufferer I was no stranger to laboured breath.
After a few days we noticed the fridge was no longer doing its job. For the moment the freezer was gallantly producing ice and preserving our victuals but forget the fridge, the digital readout inside proclaimed,
“Too Warm,” each time we opened it.
The eggs were warm, the cheese was sweating and the lettuce was wilting. It was obvious we had to intervene.
Hubs brought home four bags of ice to keep the temperature down, I slit one open and placed it in a pyrex dish on a shelf.
With the help of several bags of ice and the valiant freezer we made it through the weekend
and excitedly awaited the repair man to pay a visit on Monday morning. Which he did, in the afternoon.
He was not at all focused on the job having just taken a phone call as he walked through our door. During brief pauses in the loud conversation he was carrying on he probed the interior of the fridge and declared
“Quite cool enough.”
“Of course,” said an exasperated hubs, “we’ve had bags of ice in it for days.”
The repairman clung to the false cool reading his probe had registered. To satisfy us he flipped the on/off switch at the mains, throwing all my clocks off course, then wrote up an order for a thermostat, excused his caller to say,
“I’ll be back on Thursday to fit it, then we’ll monitor the temperature for a couple of weeks. If it still hasn’t fixed itself we’ll dispatch a refridgerator technician to take a look.”
and returned to his phone conversation.
“But what about the noise, that has nothing to do with the thermostat?” hubs asked bewildered that he hadn’t even pulled the appliance out to take a gander on the backside.
“All fridges make that noise!”
I begged to differ but not out loud and as he left the wheezing stopped.
The total silence, although music to my ears, was ominous. Hubs checked the circuits see if a fuse had shorted, but no!
The fridge/freezer had officially expired.
We grew expert at cracking the door just enough to grab what we wanted then shutting it before a draft of warm air could hop in to play havoc with the ice. The freezer below was defrosting at an alarming rate and hubs planned an early morning trip to Croydon for a quick replacement.
When daughts woke up she asked where he was,
“Off to buy a new fridge/freezer.”
“How’s he going to get it home?’ she asked, still half asleep.
“In his backpack,” I said fully awake and witty!
We took delivery of a brand new, modern fridge/freezer the following afternoon.
Our old fridge stood empty the food either in the sink,
in the oven cooking or in the rubbish bin. The final bags of ice were fighting a losing battle against the change in weather.
“Don”t turn it on for two hours,” we were told by the very attentive delivery men, as they hauled away the heavy Zanussi.
Hubs used the time to switch the hinges on the doors, the new appliance was so lightweight he was able to lie it down on the floor all by himself,
Our Hoover is a silent addition to the kitchen and no, it doesn’t do carpets!
It has mood lighting on the inside though!
Well hello there! My name is Vivienne McNeny.
I am an empty nester exploring life as a Boomer…you could say I'm happily Boomering along!
As a homeschooling Mum I have finally quit the job of role model and mentor to my four children. I do what I want to do, eat when I feel like it, enjoy life with my blue eyed cowboy and clean my house once a month or so whether it needs it or not!
In true English form I write about the emergence of my true identity now that I can no longer hide behind my children as their Mum.
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