Devoted readers will know of my dislike of, nay prejudice against microwaves. Darn things, I can never work out how to set them. Just as I think I’ve got it sorted, all the watts and the times and the little pictures of a trussed chicken or a dead fish are manipulated to pinpoint accuracy, I press ‘Start’ and the whole lot’s cancelled. It’s not natural all this microwaving business nor in the least intuitive. The one at home came with Jim’s dowry and, in those early days of the amorous, glamorous, rapturous starry-eyed-ness of love’s middle-aged dream, I agreed to admit it to the Arlington kitchen. Hardly ever used it despite his best efforts to teach me – an occasional exception was shoving a bag of spinach in to wilt – very basic setting required and wilts wonderfully – the spinach that is, not Jim! It sits on top of the fridge with its plug inaccessible behind, but alas, on the last attempt at wilting the fuse blew and, well, it would be such a palaver to replace it would it not…..?

Here in these parts, virtually everything is beamed in/ by/ through/ on /with microwave. Having no idea how that works I have struggled with the choice of preposition – take your choice. But the TV signal, internet connection, phone even, for all of that we have microwaving – that frequently turns out to be micro-drowning as the waves are erratic, and obviously tidal. So, for the somewhat erratic frequency of blog posts, blame the microwaves.  Oh, and that little slip I made on the public – private thing, that didn’t help either.

Tide is in tonight though – so I’ll maybe get onto another one.

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