The storm passes us by. More pussy cat than tiger. The local villages are less lucky. Landslides, power outages, trees down. We get ten minutes of desultory rain, they get floods.
The red trousered kitchen designer texts to say that the new fridge will be delivered at seven in the morning. We take this with a pinch of salt. In deepest France profonde nothing ever gets delivered before eleven . Imagine our surprise when a white van rolls into the courtyard right on time. Bob and Sophie are overjoyed.
The delivery men don't want to carry the new fridge up to the kitchen . '' We're not paid to lift things ". Angus is temporarily taken aback by this but suggests they take the fridge back to the warehouse. The two men confer. They decide that as its only a short flight of steps they can after all carry it. This is when the problems start. The fridge is 2 centimetres wider than the door. After saying something remarkably rude the delivery men leave. A call is made to the kitchen fitter who says he'll get someone over next week to 'sort things out'. He's told to think again.
In the afternoon two carpenters arrive to widen the door. Bob and Sophie are keen to help. To save the carpenters sanity the PONs are imprisoned in the kitchen. Sophie accepts this incarceration with hopeful good grace. Bob is less forgiving. He wants to play throw the furry fox with the workmen. He howls with frustration. Why be indoors when you could be outside living life in the fast lane ?
This is so esoteric it makes for compulsive reading :http://www.newyorker.com/culture/culture-desk/chronicling-los-angeles-history-menu-by-menu?intcid=mod-latest