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Message from the fridge

Danny has secretly slapped an Anti Social Behaviour Order on our fridge freezer. Last weekend we had a bit of a fright with the vociferous beast. It was suddenly struck quite dumb.
“I think that the fridge is very sick, Danny. The light goes on when I open the door but the motor does not hum.”
This fridge has been an adolescent for as far back as we can remember. Moody and prone to dramatic outbursts of weeping into the space that used to hold the crisper drawers.

Over the past couple of years it has been insisting that it’s a freezer and not a fridge-freezer. The ice clearing is a real chore.
“If I sweep up the leaves, will you do the ice in the fridge?”
“Of course,” says D.
He renegotiates a few hours later..
“If I fix the bug on the blog will you tackle the ice?”
“I’ll do it after I’ve cooked supper.” And then I think about it.
“Even though I’m cooking, it’s actually your turn.  So would you mind tackling the ice?”
So the task was batted back and forth. No wonder that the fridge finally gave up. No one wanted to deal with its dramas. Eventually it stopped chilling altogether. Gradually it had become an igloo with attitude.

When it stopped working we had a day wondering whether we should buy a replacement. Eventually I decided to give it a bit of a shock.

I pulled the plug out of the wall.

When I switched it on again it purred into action. The motor got louder and louder as the week progressed. By Thursday night we realised that it had been singing its final swansong. Despite being a cheap fridge-freezer, bought over 12 years ago and with a poor energy rating, we were sad to see it die.

“I bet that the effect of the fridge-freezer not working has shown up on the National Grid.” Danny chortled until the cost of replacing it finally hit him with an icy swat.

Over the past month, an enormous block of ice had formed at the back of the fridge compartment.

This hefty block saved our fresh food today, as we had inadvertently created a small ice house. The freezer stayed frozen until we found temporary lodgings for our frozen food. Our carrier bags of goodies are enjoying life in a massive chest freezer at Anne Mary’s. Thank goodness for trusty friends. The Old Farmhouse offers great B&B for humans too. Well away from the chest freezer.

Since Thursday, I‘d hoped that the fridge-freezer would spring into action. Over the past couple of nights I’ve even dreamt about it. In these dreams I’ve discovered that the fridge has recovered. But each morning the fridge gave no chirrup when I opened the larder door.

So this morning I finally searched for a new fridge-freezer on the Internet. Having endured twelve years of a FF that can’t cope with  deep frost or a heatwave we finally were going for an A rated, deluxe model. I found a very good deal. Having just settled a couple of large bills and ordered a tank of oil, buying a new companion fridge freezer was not a moment to be cherished. So I decided to order the replacement beast this evening and ventured into our garden to play for a few hours before darkness fell.

As I was cooking supper, I opened the larder door and heard a faint rumble. I raced up to The Rat Room.
“Danny. I think that the fridge freezer is alive.”
Danny shot downstairs to investigate. He opened the fridge door and enjoyed the gentle wafting chill.
“Let’s hope that it wants to celebrate its thirteenth birthday.”

If it does we’ll make a vast cake festooned with candles.