Listening to the horrific noise my washing machine was making, even I was no longer able to ignore the fact that it needed 'attention'. I rang up my usual man who takes care of these things. He and I have history going back over many years and involving assorted fridge-freezers, cookers, dishwashers as well as the washing machine - always something about to go wrong in my experience.
His son came and took it away saying something about 'bearings'. This gave me a moment of hope as they were done in December and I had a 12 month guarantee on them. It was a nice moment and I made the most of it. The moment was soon dashed.
My phone rang. It was my man. NOT the bearings. Not the motor. Not anything else that my man had ever seen in 43 years of fixing washing machines either. It turns out that the concrete I was only subliminally aware was underneath every washing machine drum had come off. My man seemed quite surprised. I was quite distraught. From visions of getting it fixed for free to the reality of paying out for a new washing machine. Bugger.
Following this conversation I wandered into the kitchen at work feeling depressed and broke. There was one chocolate brownie in there. It kind of had my name on it. I tried to ignore it but it was calling out to me. I had a tiny bit off the edge to satisfy my craving. This only served to intensive my craving. I decided that in view of my washing machine angst I deserved to finish off the chocolate brownie. I made a cup of tea to accompany the chocolate brownie which I had successfully convinced myself I should have. I picked up the chocolate brownie, and promptly dropped the bloody thing on a quite exceptionally dirty floor. Me and the chocolate brownie was not to be. Bugger again.
The Hamilton Hacker - Nice wee bit of sly humour from the April 1937 issue of the *Socialist Standard*.
12 hours ago