Something as simple as replacing a dodgy microwave can make you realise how far we’ve come technologically in just a few decades, writes Moreen Simpson.
You must have experienced the Sod’s Law of household breakdowns. When one gadget goes kaput, ticky-bets something equally indispensable also gives up the ghost.
A couple of Sundays ago, I lost the plot ower my hot water disaster. Last Sunday, bungin’ some mashed tatties in the microwave for a speedy heat-up, my trusty Panasonic gave oot the scariest, loud, deep and ominous growl – like a wolf was trapped inside.
I fair louped in terror and dashed to the middle of the kitchen, expecting the whole boxie to blow. However, it then went into its usual heating and revolving sound. Phew. Thought it was a goner for a mintie.
Sadly, I was right the first time. Nae heat. Cal’ tatties ower the side. The super-duper machine I’d bought at the beginning of the 2000s(!) had microed its last.
That’s when I realised how much life has changed, thanks to the wonders of technology. Within 10 minutes, I’d bought the identical, but obviously upgraded model, silver to match my kitchen, £30 off thanks to Black Friday, delivery Tuesday, courtesy of Amazon. Pretty damnt convenient, eh?
Not that I wanted a microwave in the first place. My first hubby kept banging on about how great they were (not that he ever cooked so much as half a carrot) while I’d read horror stories about them polluting food with killer “therms” and burrowin’ into oor brains. But fa’ was the boss? And, once I had it, I couldn’t do without it.
Life’s still too short to stuff a mushroom
The same with the freezer. When a’body was buying those huge, chest things in the late 1970s, I’d have none of ‘em. However, then I read “Superwoman” Shirley Conran’s books about cutting the drudgery from the kitchen, with her iconic phrase: “Life’s too short to stuff a mushroom.”
Shirl introduced me to the working woman’s miracle of batch cooking. Overnight, I’d a stand-up freezer packed with cartons of about three weeks of different meals.
Even today, retired and a’ the time in the world, I never cook a piddling pound of bolognese, chilli, mince, stew or curry when I can cook five and freeze.
As for that dishwasher we got in the early 1980s, I’m delighted to swear I’ve never washed a plate nor pot since. Only mugs wash mugs.
However, from fancying masellie as a bit of a full-time working domestic goddess all those years ago, today proud I can use my mobile to find and buy a replacement microwave in minties, and equally chuffed to work my new – ordered by my loon – all-singin’ and dancin’ Sky package, I get the feeling life in the 20-twos is gradually overtaking me.
There’s aye a somethin’ else. My quine has asked for one of those new-fangled air fryers for her and her man’s Christmas. Sez she: “You should get one.” Moi? Nuh.
I’m no longer the quine who finally warmed to microwaves and freezers. I suspect an air fryer is just a gadget too far.
Moreen Simpson is a former assistant editor of the Evening Express and The Press & Journal, and started her journalism career in 1970
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