Of course those of you who know me, know well and fine that I live in a converted Church. Many have asked whether it has a spooky feel and how it feels to live somewhere that has such a history and background, and up to now all I can relate is that it feels very homey and very peaceful. That is until I got home yesterday.
The first admission was that the one and only whisky glass had leapt off the draining rack and shattered into a thousand pieces. Then the trusty toaster that gets used on a daily basis had suddenly gone awol. And the final thing that went wrong was that the shredder that has kept us safe from would be thieves of our identities for some years now also decided to suddenly stop working. What was going on?
The truth is probably that my trusty husband had taken his eye of the ball for a second and missed the shelf as he was washing up. The toaster was approximately six years old and consequently had 'lived' for longer than expected, and the shredder had never been oiled in all its existence and we had never known that it should have had regular sustenance, so it too had done stirling service for the couple of years we have had it.
So the outcome is that we shall have to pay a visit to the Whisky Society for a replacement, which means of course that we shall have to try some of the liquor out, just to make sure that it still tastes the same, poor, poor us... I have investigated toasters and decided on one that not only toasts bread but also can cook an egg at the same time... no really it can... and finally a new shredder arrived at our door this morning only 12 hours after being ordered, which was truly remarkable and will apparently be followed within another 24 hours by the much needed shredder oil.
Nothing spooky happening here then, except perhaps the miraculous amount of money I seem to be able to spend in a very short time, and the fact that the postal system is working far better than I could ever expect. Nothing to do with living in an Auld Kirk at all.
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