About a Kettle

I’ve seen a lot of toasters,
And sandwich makers too,
But I never could stop searching
For a kettle just like you.

I like your pouty spout,
And your elegant element.
I like your ample handle,
And your kooky plastic scent.

Please sit here on my worktop,
And boil water for my tea,
And tell me how you’ve always searched
For a blender just like me.


It was a slapstick morning

Whilst holding an IM conversation, I totally forgot about my toast. My toaster has a fantastic feature, whereby if you use the “defrost and toast” routine, it totally neglects to turn itself off after however long you specify. I wonder whether this was a deliberate addition to its specification.

The byproduct of this neglect can be seen in figure 1:

Burnt toast
*Fig. 1*

…and, for that matter, in figure 2:

Smoky kitchen
*Fig. 2*

After crawling around my kitchen on my hands and knees, and finally getting all the windows open and every extractor fan turned on, I resigned myself to going back to bed to read another chapter of [The Straw Men][] by Michael Marshall Smith.

[the straw men]:

Half an hour later the doorbell buzzed. I picked up the intercom, thinking that it was going to be some helpful and concerned neighbour telling me that there was smoke pouring out of my windows.



“Come on up.”

I then struggled to get into my dressing gown. Well, my left arm found the sleeve normally occupied by my right arm. Hilarity ensued as I attempted to fashion a sarong out of the asymmetrically distributed fabric. I opened the door looking like David Beckham, only probably a lot less presentable (and I never thought that I would be able to say that).

I took the parcel, signed for it, and returned back into my flat.

And stubbed my toe on *everything*.

Uh, that’s it. But what more could you want?