If you are new here, welcome! If you are as fiercely bright as most of the miniaturists who pause here you may have noticed the number 3 in the title, for this is the 3rd description of my attempt to get a new washing machine. If, so noticing, and familiar with the way blogs start with the newest entry and work their way down and back in time (this being one in which you can time travel backwards for sixteen and three quarters years. The post that tells you how to leap forward in time should be will be haven been posted in 2030 or thereabouts.) you will know to scroll down two postings until you get to the unnumbered electrical life and commence reading. If you were previously unaware, you are now aware and able to time travel up to a week backwards, in which case enjoy the good weather while you can.
The new machine having been observed to be standing in a puddle on Sunday, the puddle diagnosis team arrived with admirable dispatch on Monday. The diagnostician peered at the hose inlet, the hose outlet and the side of the machine for about five seconds before announcing ‘Cracked drum. Ring them and pop in, it’ll be replaced.’
Congratulating ourselves on having spent extra on the delivery and fitting service, as opposed to the manhandle it into the back of a borrowed van method we used to use when younger and skinter, I rang the shop, who assured us that all that was necessary was to pop to the shop as soon as could be with the purchase form and all would be well.
I was sceptical. I often am. I find it to be an attitude that settles upon one, unbidden, with age.
As the morning was wearing on the OH had some soup, which he makes in quantity, and I did without and off we went to the shop, which is one branch of a national chain.
We arrived to find several staff outside waving at customers as they arrived. ‘Go and see Fred*’ they said, ‘All the computers are down, nationally, we’re probably not able to do anything.’
Inside we encountered Fred* who was wearing a badge saying Fred* and brandishing a very small worn stub of pencil and a partial sheet of paper. He explained that the computers, no doubt anticipating our arrival, had just gone down five minutes ago. We gave Fred* our details and showed him the purchase form and watched while a different assistant explained to a lady why she could not sell her the toy her small child was jumping up and down about.
Was it cyber crime taking down all the stores? Was it inefficiency? Was it a virus spreading among the white goods like water under a washing machine?
I never found out but we were promised someone would ring us back at home and I noticed the home phone number on the purchase order was identical to the mobile number on the purchase order and explained about landlines.
We returned and they rang promising delivery on Wednesday, because on Tuesday I had a dental appointment. They said they would ring again when they knew the time of deliverance, a time of interest to all parties.
The phone call, which came when I was at the dentist’s the following day was intercepted by the OH, who, feeling left out, asked for a text notification of delivery.
Meanwhile in the next town, feeling battered and bruised from a dental encounter with a new crown and a dentist with abnormally strong fingers, I was driving up a narrow street with cars parked on both sides when I heard a police siren. The police car, racketing down the street was bumper to bumper with me at speed. I managed to swerve backwards into a tiny gap. It was an unmarked car, sufficiently full of police to be Keystone Cops, with a roof full of flashing lights.
Recovered from the shock, I crossed a larger road carefully and proceeded up the next winding street with parking both sides and little room when there was another siren. I waited and the Keystone Cops came bursting down the road and were bumper to bumper instantly, the one in the back gesticulating with two middle fingers making me feel glad I could not lip read.
I reversed without breathing for several cars until I found a gap to reverse into. The mouthy chap in the back never letting up for a second; quite how he imagined that would assist the situation I cannot say. To get to where they were they must have either gone down two one way streets the wrong way or round in a big circle through the pedestrian streets, breaking the speed barrier.
At home the phone rang, annoying the OH who had been hoping to regain control with a text. The new machine would be delivered next day.
It has been. It has washed three times. So far, so dry, so good.
My grandmother never had this problem. She used a washboard and a poss stick from 1896 until her death in the 1970s. Her clothes were always clean and her laundry equipment had the advantage of being able to be used musically, although she never did as far as I am aware.
I hope that is the end of the washing machine saga, though you know where to look if it isn’t.
I am now hoping to return calmly to some doll orders. I know I promised more dolls in the shop and these will occur, eventually.
Meanwhile I thought you might like to see the 24th scale family who went to live with Anne.
The poor baby has a vegetable crate pram, which I enjoyed so much there may be more at Miniatura.
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*Not his real name. They did say his real name.
*Not his real name this time, at all.
*Not his real name written down, either.
*Still not his real name. I haven’t changed it to protect his identity, I just can’t remember what it is.
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