El Telly

Amid the hurly-burly of January, I didn’t tell you about the telly. I mentioned at the end of the year that our washing machine had gone to the the Great White Go(o)d in the sky to be replaced with a new one, plus a dryer much to Mrs P’s delight. This was followed by the Dyson which entering its senior years developed memory loss and forgot how to suck.

Again it was covered by one of those useless insurance policies that brought out a mechanic to coax the old dear into life and parcel a few days later containing a new set of wheels that I had to fit myself. (Should I send them a bill?) The buggers didn’t even match, the colour scheme on our ancient model totally out of stock. So we bought a new one with the vigour of youth to sweep up anything more than a dog hair’s weight off the carpet.

So when the living-room telly started smoking, well it was like the rule of three. And of all of them, I could live quite happily without the Dyson, at a pinch with the washer (re-wearing a shirt two days running just about bearable, me not being a particularly sweaty person) but life without the telly? Unconceivable. At least not with Mrs P wanting to watch that skating thing on Saturday night. That and me and the footie on Sunday.

With 90 minutes on Saturday morning to sort things out, we gave ourselves unreservedly to our Tesco 24 because they had some (sort of) cheap LCD models, HD ready and all that. We got there to be faced with a wall of the things and I squinted, doing my mental maths, realising that none would fit the space on the unit.

We hadn’t measured the space and didn’t take a measure with us, so a trip back home was required to do the necessary. (I can’t believe I’m owning up to this — all my fault, I confess) Anyway, back we went, armed with my unpredictable and blood blister inducing metal tape-measure and confirmed that the “cheap” LCDs were too tall.

Cutting a long story short (as I seldom do) we invested, if that’s the right word, in a 32″ jobbie and I have to say that the picture is brill. It even makes Eastenders look interesting.

But with all this expense, why on earth am I picking up a new car tomorrow?

Nobody’s prefect. If you find any spelling mistakes or other errors in this post, please let me know by highlighting the text and pressing Ctrl+Enter.

2 comments… Add yours
  • Jay 1st February 2007

    Oh god, please do not let word of this get back to my hubby, who will be whining and clamouring if he hears it.

  • Yorkshire Pudding 2nd February 2007

    In your first paragraph you refer to your wife as “the Dyson” – now in my view that is most ungentlemanly!
    Regarding all these problems you are having with electrical goods, clearly your house is now haunted. Did one of your kids have a pet that died? Perhaps a hamster or a goldfish? That spirit is abroad in your home but the good news is that I can exorcise it for £625 + VAT – just drop me a line before the wiring of the house goes into meltdown!


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