Bushed!

Hope that's not a phrase that nowadays has any unsavoury connotations - back in the day it meant Pretty Bl**dy Tired. Which is what I am. Lead Balloon coming up, then I can't wait to get some sleep.

This time last night the 13 year old proved to me that he did indeed have something wrong with his stomach. Luckily he had the presence of mind to get a bucket in time. Upchuck number 2 followed at 6.30 this morning - again, bucket, but bleach, cold flannels, soothing manner and all manner of mum-heavy doings all the same.

Which seemed an excellent morning to have decided to defrost the fridge. Lollies were to blame. The fridge was fine, but the attached freezer had at some point earlier in the Summer gone into overdrive when Someone Unknown (aka the 12 year old) left the freezer door Not Quite Shut after another lolly raid. It had been tolerable until having to remove the middle drawer, the top drawer already jammed shut in permafrost, and only being able to sling a few things into the bottom tray. Seemed a bit of a waste having a freezer when it got to that.... started at 9, fully expecting to be done and up to tesco by 2 to restock.

Nope. 9 hours later, large obstinate icebergs refusing to melt on command, the water that was melting out refusing to play ball by landing in the desired location of washing up bowl, several lakes beneath both appliance and sideboard, multiple changes of sodden newspaper, nearly all the backlog of guardian's used up, and nearly the worst thing of all - black finger and foot prints all over the shop from the defrost massacre.
I'd probably left it a bit too long before getting round to it.

The only casualty seems to have been the lightbulb. Its not quite a fridge experience if that little light doesn't go on - especially at Nigella-fridge-raiding-times. But having spent the first hour post-switch-on thinking I'd broken the fridge yet oddly not the freezer, and mentally spending a few 00's on a replacement - ooh, could be smaller, what colour...but definitely self-defrosting - it is nonetheless good to have the silver ex-display model from Barkers of High St Kensington, bought 12 years ago with naughty mortgage shares as the closest I could afford to a Smeg, back with us again.

Happily, the 13 year old is doing a good impression of being recovered.