Random reminder

Press, 10 December 1983, Page 38

Random reminder

LEFT HAND DOWN A BIT.

There is a silly housewife who believes everything she is told. This tale began when doing some baking, she glanced through the glass oven door to check its progress. To her horror she saw that the cakes were black on one side, the left hand side. Mentioning the problem to her everloving spouse, she was not amused at his laughter, as he explained that in this modem age stoves didn’t bum things on the left side, or any other side for that matter. He went into the technical jargon associated with one who knows the inner working of stoves. At this point her eyes strayed to the T.V. screen, Hudson and Halls were producing from their oven their latest dish, evenly browned all over, she envied them. She struggled with the burning problem for a few more days, till tired of her moans, and half cooked dinners, spouse gave in, and called in the Expert. He came in the form of an Electrical Authority expert. She explained the problem, and timidly mentioned that perhaps it was the Bake/Grill switch? He looked at her, gave a patronising smile, and asked who built the house. The silly housewife, although puzzled at the question, told him. “Oh” said the Expert, off-handedly, “the wall the stove is attached to, has a definite lean to the

left.” He narrowed his eyes, measuring it. He looked at her triumphantly, daring her to disagree. She believed him, the silly woman. Yes, it did have a lean. In her imagination she saw the builder tearing down his handiwork, taking measurements straight this time, no kitchen for months, just a gaping hole, (well she could take a crash course in barbecue cooking). But wait, she had always wanted a larger kitchen, one with a dishmaster, an eye level stove, a microwave, she warmed to the idea, her imagination working overtime. “Could you get a book to prop up the stove, should fix the problem,” a voice interrupted her. She nearly went and got him that book, the silly woman. Then she realised, while her mind had been on higher things, designing kitchens, the Expert had pulled the stove from the wall, unscrewed the back, and was peering into the depths. “There,” he said, and with a triumphant flourish, a magician would have envied, produced from the depths what can only be described as a piece of metal. f ‘lt’s that switch,” pointing to the Bake/Grill. “A new one of those should fix the problem.” She’d told him that in the first place hadn’t she?