Monday, November 23, 2009

Make Do And Mend For The Festive Season


Most days, I count myself extremely fortunate that I am a Man of Two Fridges.


It lacks the panache of King of England or Lord High Master of the Universe, I know, but two fridges are better than one, even on a freezing cold November afternoon.

My first fridge, I’ve had for years, and it stands in the kitchen in an uncannily fridge-friendly corner.

My second fridge, I inherited from my Dad. Old and battered, it lurks in the shadows of the scullery and feasts on little-used or unusually proportioned items deemed unsuitable for Fridge #1: jars of horrible jam I can’t bring myself to throw away, marrows, bottles of cider, bulk tubs of EZspredd butter, eggs, anchovies and the odd 1960s board game with half the pieces missing — and that’s just the top shelf.

Like all accessory 2nd fiddle appliances, it doesn’t receive the attention it should. Truth be told, it doesn’t receive any. Like a tired, unwashed tramp whose only aspiration in life is a clean pair of undies and a Thai bride with all her own teeth, Fridge #2 has sat in its designated spot for almost a year, watching J cloth after J cloth wipe everything else in the house clean a hundred times over, from the sink to the Wii to Geoff’s occasionally errant felinanus.

So today, I braved the carapace of cack bristling by the stalagtite and -miteload from its marrow-packed interior — with the broom from the yard, a half pint of rocket fuel and a selection of heavy duty shovels.

The grime, I’m glad to say, came off almost immediately. I even rescued a stray It’s Your Birthday Collect £10 From Each Player card, stuck to an old crust of Port Salut like a nicotine patch on Dean Gaffney’s face.

And that’s when I found it. The THING.

A compacted husk of blackness, it resembled no withered vegetable; no crisped nor mouldered slice of ham. What the hell could have spawned it (in conjunction with my own shameful idleness)???!!!

At first, I wondered if a giant had been in, and smeared a huge bogey on the side of the salad tray, but I can barely get in the scullery myself, and so dismissed the idea as fancy. Besides, the Giant Alarm slumbered noiselessly in its caddy.

I prised it from the fridge’s shrivelled antibacterial interior. With the weird-looking tongs Girly of Whirly uses to beautify her eyelashes. And the tweezers she...no, don’t go there.

Turns out it was a walnut from last Christmas: uncracked, unloved — and unbelievably smelly. Any other time of the year, and I’d have thrown it away, but on this occasion, I may just spare it.

Hosed down with disinfectant and covered in silver foil, it would make a splendid point-less star (nay, ORB) for the tree come December...

11 comments:

Kiersten White said...

Come clean out my fridge and you can keep anything you like. Ornaments galore!

Whirlochre said...

But for the multiple thousand mile hike between here and San Diego, that sounds like an offer too good to refuse.

Mary said...

In some cultures, a Man of Two Fridges is considered quite a catch. Such gentlemen often succeed wildly in Scrap Metal.

Natalie Whipple said...

I kinda wish I had two fridges now. Sounds so exciting...and my life is very not exciting right now.

Whirlochre said...

Mary
Better a surfeit of refrigerators than an idle cooker.

Natalie
Yeah. Two fridges. Changes everything. You can pile 'em up, rest 'em side by side, lie 'em down front to back or end to end. Like there's no tomorrow. Heh. The fun I have with those two fridges. It's like real real fun. Fun like I don't know how to stop. Hey, with two fridges I get the best of everything. Twice. I can pile 'em up, rest 'em side by side, lie 'em down front to back...
































Has she gone yet? Can I stop fibbing how exciting a life with two fridges is? Can I lie down please? In a darkened room?

Robin S. said...

Hey Whirl,

Just poppin' on to say, it's Narcissistic Relative Visit Time at my house, so I'm in somewhat of an absentia thang, currently.

See you soon....

McKoala said...

You have a scullery. SMOW. Scullery Maid of Whirl.

writtenwyrdd said...

And here I was, drooling over the thought of an extra freezer when I get my mudroom redone next year. Someone pass me the alka seltzer please...

Seriously, I was thinking you'd say the thing you found was Conan. Whatever happened to Conan, anyhow, Whirl?

Whirlochre said...

Scullery, btw, is a posh word for Wash Room Full of Crap.

And Conan (sob) was fed to the creatures that inhabit my wormery. Likely he spent most of the summer as part of any number of foxgloves. Bless.

Bernita said...

You have a scullery?

Whirlochre said...

YUp. Right here on the top of my neckery.