This week, to celebrate Mr Not Waving landing a job, I had my carpets steam-cleaned. Which caused Oliv er Reed to start spinning in his grave. I then flicked through some back issues of Livingetc to pick out some tiles for a new kitchen splashback, while Mr Not Waving popped out to Argos and bought me a Teasmade. At which point Sid Vicious did a backflip and what’s left of Keith Moon exploded into flames.
I think Mr Not Waving was worried that as he’ll now be getting up at ‘fuck o’clock’ in the morning, I might not actually bother getting out of bed at all without the cuppa he normally brings me. And with good reason. But now I have the Teasmade! I love you, Teasmade! Or can I call you Teasy? Your only, minor fault is that even with the Dimmer Facility switched on, you emit more light than a UFO. At 3am the whole bedroom is eerily blue. ‘We can make love by the glow of the Teasmade,’ my husband joked. Make love? Why would I do that, now I have an automatic hot beverage maker?
Unfortunately, my husband is becoming suspicious that my relationship with Teasy is more intimate than it should be – I think it was the tell-tale third-degree burns around my inner thighs that did it. I have a feeling Teasy might be sent into exile in the garage. Never mind, I have the Argos catalogue in front of me, and am already drooling over the De’Longhi Pump Coffee Machine with integral frothing action. And what about the Tefal Toast ‘n’ Egg with meat-warming tray and extra wide slot? How hot does that look? (Pretty hot. You’d definitely need oven gloves.) Or the Gordon Ramsay searing griddle with removable drip tray?
My God, I am one sad bastard.