Just popping out for a quick spin dear...

(written offline, Saturday 22nd Aug)

I was closer to those of you in Ferndown than you realise yesterday. As in I was back. Already. And it wasn’t because of a passport problem at the Cambridge border post.

We moved in on Thursday 14th, and by Monday 18th we had got to that point where the pile of boxes-to-be-unpacked was smaller than the pile of dirty washing – which was basically 7 days worth of clothes for a family of four. Something would have to be done. So we popped the first load into the washing machine. This is the washing machine that was already in the Cambridge house. The one left behind by the landlord and subsequently used by all tenants since. I knew things weren’t going to be good when a shriek up the stairs informed me that whilst the machine was filling up with water and it was making the right sort of noises, it certainly wasn’t going round and round like a good washing machine should. And it wasn’t draining at all. To cut quite a long story short I spent much of that day investigating, cleaning solidly clogged-and-limescaled filters and U-bends, restoring rubber belts to the right location, and getting quite frustrated. Not the landlord’s problem you see, as the property is officially ‘unfurnished’. If anything goes wrong with non-structural things the landlord has no obligation to fix them (that will also work in my favour as a landlord!). And his line was ‘you can fix it or dump it’. So by Monday night everybody was happy. I’d fixed the machine, Tasha’s washing was going round, and the spin cycle sounded like we had a jet engine in the kitchen.

The peace lasted until Friday - 4 loads later. We could see limescale and various other deposits appearing on our load of white bedding as it went merrily round. Then it stopped going round. Then it started smoking. Then Tasha started shouting and I quite quickly switched it off. I suppose if it had actually caught fire it could have put itself out, but I didn’t want to find out.
At this point we’d had enough. It was going to the tip. But what were our options for a new machine. £200 for a new one, but when? Or half a tank of diesel (which is not yet £200) and a guaranteed replacement later the same day? I took the former option, and jumped in the car to Ferndown, to collect the machine which we had left there!

After one service station lunch, two cans of Red Bull, the M25 on August Bank Holiday Friday, a spiritual conversation and a plate of Bolognese with a former neighbour*, I was back in Cambridge nine hours after setting out.

And the load of white bedding? Had been safely rinsed and had dried in the sunshine, and was back on the bed ready for the tired driver upon his return.

What lengths do you go to to keep peace in your house? And what lengths did Jesus go to to keep peace in his world?

*'Dogs Without Collars' – if you want to know why you’ve been banned from Canford School I have the answer!

P.S. I wrote this a few days ago but only just posted it. In the meantime I’ve discovered that the lawnmower (left on a similar basis to the washing machine) is unsafe to use. Guess what? There’s a perfectly good one in a shed in Ferndown.