One of the first things my grandmother did when my grandfather died, was to buy a new cooker.
“He would never fork out for one,” she explained.
I’m beginning to see where she’s coming from.
Yesterday, Mike came home with a new, bigger, better, lots to blow up, paddling pool that the children can probably practice lengths in.
I’d asked him to replace the one he accidentally strimmed into shreds last year, but the same model would have been fine.
Then today, a large, table-sized package arrived. The next door neighbour brought it round when I got home from presenting my last programme for freesound fm.
“It’s an interesting looking parcel,” he said as he struggled over the wall with it.
“Maybe Mike’s decided we need a new table, somewhere,” I said.
Then when I brought the chldren home from school, Ben saw it and said,
“Oh, that’s probably my new bow and arrow and target. Can I open it?”
“What new bow and arrow and target?” I enquired, puzzled because he already has two, obviously inadequate sets.
“Daddy said he’d get me a bigger, better one.”
So bigger and better is all the rage in our house.
Except when it comes to forking out for a new cooker.
Our deranged and ancient Neff has refused to heat up to temperature in under an hour for at least two years. We’re used to it now. At least, I am.
But when we stay at someone else’s house, say on an NCT Houseswap, I am delirious with happiness that I have access to a fan oven which heats up in five minutes.
Oh the bliss of getting home late and feeding the kids in under half an hour.
The joys of deciding on the day to cook baked potatotes.
These innocent pleasures, though, are not for me.
As I currently have no spare cash to contribute to large purchases, I am at the mercy of a man who revealed today that,
“All that money I’d earmarked for a new telly has gone.”
A new telly?
We already have freeview, so we won’t be losing our access to Grissom when digital TV explodes into our area.
Why do we need a new telly?
Perhaps there’s a bigger, better one out there that just has to find its way to our house.