Wash day blues.

Cartoon by Kev Moore.

Just after we got back our poor old dishwasher decided to have a nervous breakdown. Not the "I'm not going to start" or "I've had enough thank you" sort of breakdown. No this was a "switch me on and I'll simply blow the fuse box" type. This would have been fine, but for the fact it decided that half way through a cycle was a good time and as we usually put it on last thing at night, left us plunged into darkness while we tried to work out if it was a power cut (which we quickly realised it wasn't as every other house still had lights) quickly followed by fumblings in the dark as we searched for that elusive torch which is always put on the shelf next to the fuse box, but which mysteriously wanders when needed.  It then took forever to find the culprit for the constant tripping of the box. Every socket was checked and turned off. As you would expect, the dishwasher was the last thing we thought of (doh) and so there was an awful lot of flick-click, flick-click.

While Mike is fixing the old dear this old dear has had to take up the role. It's not so bad, I don't mind washing the easy things like glasses, cups and plates, it's just those nasty greasy, baked on saucepans and baking trays I hate. I actually find it theraputic, it seems to give my brain space to wander over troubles and worries.

I ain't half getting through the Furry liquid mind you.