ex fridge

Oh boy. Of course, if you're an ailing refrigerator, there's no better time to give up the ghost than during the worst heatwave in seventy years. It wouldn't be any fun otherwise.

So that was yesterday, dead fridge, racing around to buy a new one (limited by time, money, transport and a tiny kitchen it's yet another case of making do rather than the best fridge for the price - sigh), waiting for various deliveries, tradesmen, etc. All the stuff I wanted to do is pushed back, again. Sigh. And I'm pretty sure it won't wait, either.

At least one of the deliveries was my long awaited banana lounge. It's been mainly a (constant) verbal lament, but I so wanted one for my once in two decades summer holiday, but no, they couldn't possibly deliver until after Oz day. Well, it's here. At last. And it's lovely. I eschewed the cheap models for one that swears it's Italian (yeah, right), but it is perfection. I had only half an hour in it, but oh, what a half hour, under the greenleaves, watching a trio of pelicans wheel in the sky as I sipped my lukewarm orange juice.
( more: orf with 'er head )