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Monday, September 21, 2009

Fridges leave me cold.There comes a point in life when you realise that the only way you're ever going to be cool again is to buy a new fridge freezer. So I've just parted with a week's wages and bought the one on the left. It's being delivered on Wednesday.

Admittedly, since Lisa turned into the Galloping Gourmet five months ago and started cooking all of Amelie's meals from scratch, we've needed more space in the freezer, but I think what finally made me decide to take the plunge and order something bigger was the moment I opened the door of our current model at 7pm last night and realised that everything had been gently defrosting for hours. It was a chilling discovery. But not for our food.

Some furious tinkering and fervent praying to St Bejam, the patron saint of frozen food, and the thing miraculously started working again at about eight-thirty. Though quite how, I've no idea. It was certainly nothing I did. By that time, I'd already ordered a new one from Comet (the ice man), which is probably just as well. I've opened the door of the freezer so many times today to check it's still working, that it's barely staying cold at all.

Tomorrow will be spent working out just how much I can eat before they come to collect the old one on Wednesday, moving all our belongings so they can get the new one down the hallway, and evacuating Amelie's home-made ready meals to Lisa's Mum's kitchen. That's in addition to seeing twenty-eight patients in Crawley and going to Asda. I'll need a cold drink by the evening, so let's hope the fridge is still working.