The Christmas Cactus has come into flower. It gradually turned pink, and the flowers turn out to be somewhat like turbo fuchsias. It’s most attractive and as advertised, hasn’t died yet, nor does it seem to be thinking of a Better World — it really looks quite healthy. Other domestic news: on the plus side, it’s not snowing, though the ground is as hard as a stone. The boilermen came and found an airlock in the fuel supply, so we have heat again. Less positively, I was in the middle of cooking for New Year when there was a sharp cracking noise from the stove and when I lifted the pan, I found a stress-fracture in the glass over one of the elements. I’ve had to wait for a cooker man to come and look at it, but he turned up this morning, and says he can replace the glass. Meanwhile I am having to exercise great caution because, even if I quarantine that element, if anything boils over on one of the others, there’s some risk of water getting under the glass. I don’t have the Rayburn at the moment because it went out due to the failure in the fuel supply, and relighting Rayburns is quite a business. I do seem to have a lot of trouble with stoves. I suppose it’s because I make the great mistake of cooking on them day in and day out.

5 Responses to “Blooming”

  1. The Dramaturg Says:

    You’re not supposed to cook on ranges and Rayburns. You’re supposed to heat up ready meals in a microwave. Any other culinary activity is regarded with suspicion, and will be suppressed. Open fires and smoke-jacks, ho!

  2. Jane Says:

    That’s all very lovely. But while some of us may channel the burly, sweat-soaked mistress of the classic Tuscan farmhouse kitchen, that doesn’t mean we have such a one on tap while we go off and earn money. Yet we do like to eat, while not being prepared to give this 50% of available time, we do kind of want real food. It’s amazing how difficult all this is getting.

  3. The Man From Maryport Says:

    Beware the unprofessionally maintained and re-ignited Rayburn . . . the Missus & I nearly suffocated in a Torridon holiday cottage some years ago . . ended up having to open all doors and windows for several hours at 3 in the morning and wander around light-headed, choking and freezng the night away . . .

  4. Jane Says:

    Reading my response to the Dramaturg again it sounds a bit ratty and churlish. Sorry. There’s rather a lot to think about at the moment, and sometimes what is meant for sprezzatura doesn’t come out quite right. But moving on to the next comment, the M from M is right, it’s not advisable to mess with Rayburns. Which is why, since our nice boiler-men are up to their ears in genuine emergencies, and we therefore haven’t tried to persuade them to spend a couple of hours communing with innards of the Rayburn Royal, we haven’t engaged in amateur tinkering — though it would be dashed convenient at the moment. But it doesn’t seem fair to try and get them to sort out my back-up, when they’re being worked off their feet with stuff that is really essential.

  5. The Man From Maryport Says:

    I might add that the person doing the unprofessional Rayburn maintenance in Torridon was the cottage owner, not his hapless and near-suffocated tenants.

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