You know that sort of rhythmic mechanical wheeze Doctor Who’s TARDIS makes when it dematerialises? If you haven’t got the foggiest, never mind it’s not central to your understanding of what happens next. Don’t worry. Instead of making cold things hot, the microwave decided to audition for the now defunct Radiophonic Workshop and not make cold things hot.
It was unsettling to say the least.
We checked for foil, metal implements and other things* but there weren’t any outside influences, it had just gone wrong. Since we are now bottle feeding Danger, we really need a microwave, and since the death rattle occurred at about 4.30pm on a Saturday, there was a fair sense of urgency.
Given the state of emergency, I was despatched to Currys to pick up a reserve and collect microwave. It was an experience, especially given that Apple have just appointed the former head of retail from DSG (Currys parent company) to head up their shops. Two members of staff had a fight in front of me over who wouldn’t serve me, and when I politely refused the extended warranty offer, I thought I might be offered outside. The coup de grace though was the collect aspect of it. Chumley wandered aimlessly around the shop floor looking for my supposedly reserved product. It’s just as well there wasn’t a sudden rush on microwaves at Saturday tea time really. I expect they would have flannelled me with some stock system codswallop had the two machines on the floor been sold in the interim between browsing the internet and turning up at store. That seems to be where their real expertise lies.
It’s a digital thingamybob with functions that go completely beyond the two dial system I’m used to. It’s funny, I’m happy updating the firmware on a router or making my own network cables but something like a microwave with buttons and alterable things is beyond my ken.
I must be getting old but I managed to heat some soup in it this morning and felt like I’d really achieved something.
*including whether it was situated on an ancient Indian burial ground.