And so it came to pass that I eventually moved into the new flat. Because this is a new flat, some things must be done differently, and these are the things I shall narrate. They will range from the exceedingly geeky (The new network and my attempts at keeping my life on it) to the frighteningly banal (The next entry) to the… I’m not sure yet (The rest of this entry).
The first of these stories concerns kettles. When I came up here a couple of weeks ago to put down the final part of the initial payment and pick up the keys, I had nothing but a rucksack with the implements of making tea in it. That is, I had a mug, the old travel kettle from the second Sunderland flat (complete with Jonny Bravo stickers) and some teabags liberated from hotels over the last year or so. It is Traditional that the first thing to happen in my new flat is tea, so I bought some milk on the way, and got to the flat.
I was thwarted, unfortunately, by the fact that the travel kettle had died a horrible death at some point in the last four years, so I was forced to boil water in the only cooking implement available – a frying pan – and make tea that way.
Shortly afterwards, I resolved to buy a new kettle, so one lunch-hour, I wandered down to Argos to source such a thing. I discovered that I could get a kettle for 20, or I could get a kettle and a coffee maker and a toaster and a juicer for 20. So I lugged a large box of kitchenware back to the office and then back to the flat (Well, sort of. A Coworker gave me a lift to the flat so I didn’t have to carry it all the way). I do not expect any of these implements to last long (The last Cookware appliance I bought was a liquidizer that took up unsavory habits, like smoking in the kitchen), but while they do I have a fruit fucker.
There are downsides, like the way it takes over half a kilo of oranges to make a glass of juice, and the fact that it takes longer to make than it does to drink, and the horrible screeching noise the engine makes when it goes one way (it alternates) which may just be the fruit in pain. Also, years of reading Penny Arcade have rendered me unable to refer to it as anything apart from a Fruit Fucker, which isn’t an ideal thing either. But it makes fresh orange juice, and that makes me a happy person.