Arrival BY: Elainie Lutton
Machine Mayhem
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n a previous article, I mentioned the visit of my son and his family and how delightful it was to see them. It certainly was from my point of view, but some members of my household took exception to the extra work it placed on their shoulders! My dishwasher and washing machine was the first to begin their complaints. The initial indication that not all was running smoothly in the family home was when we noticed a little flooding occurring when we put the dishwasher to work. Nothing major, just nuisance value. Perhaps it could be safely ignored, but nevertheless, we thought we should consult a plumber with whom we were acquainted. He peered behind the machine and quickly diagnosed the problem. It was a small split in the hose, and he suggested that we turned the dishwasher off at the wall until he had time to fix it. He reassured us that the washing machine would be fine. Phew, I could manage without a dishwasher, but with five extra folk intent on swimming, fishing, and other beach activities followed by showers, we seemed to be going through a multitude of towels and clothes and the thought of no washing machine terrified me.
The plumber left and we went out to dinner, a very pleasant evening ensuing. The next morning all of the family took advantage of the tides and weather and headed for the surf beach at Woorim, returning for showers, each putting their towels, togs, nightwear etc. in the machine as instructed. They left and I began the wash. Disaster! Massive flooding and even I could see a split in another hose, much larger than that in the original. After turning the taps off, I rang the plumber and queried his initial diagnosis. He
confessed he might have been a little hasty in his judgement and said that he would give my son, who fortuitously happened to be visiting and drinking his beer, some duck-tape. He promised he would visit the next day and drink some of our beer. Yes, the plumber in question is our son-in-law, Bill.
True to his word, Bill arrived the following day with a new hose and with the help of his apprentice, my son, fixed my washing machine. He then declared that he would like to take another look at the dishwasher. Apparently, I had two appliances, both of whom had developed leaks but whilst the washing machine was fixable, the dishwasher was, in Bill's opinion, terminal. Both my son and son-in-law made the executive decision that little old ladies, such as myself, could not be trusted with such modern appliances but had been known to fall headfirst into them, get stuck, and do themselves a mischief. A rather unfeeling reference to a previous occurrence on my part. The “committee” came to the conclusion that living by myself I did not really need a dishwasher at all and they would rid me of the same; it would be taken to the tip in Bill's truck and whilst they did this they would also take my “dead” BBQ on a similar trip. I did not object to this as I had another one which was in use and the removal of the corpse I thought a good idea. They were not stopping there, however. My son began to eye the big comfortable purple armchair near the phone. He had designs on taking this too! At this point my proverbial foot went down and to emphasise my unwillingness to let my sharer of many a phone confidence be banished to the graveyard of unloved objects, I threw
myself into the chair thereby rendering it much more difficult to lift or load.
In retrospect, I cannot help feeling this may have been a risky move as the plumber and his apprentice might have decided that I, too, could be considered superfluous to requirements. My readers will be relieved to know that this was a battle I won and that both myself and chair still reside in my home. Before loading the dishwasher and defunct BBQ, the plumber reassured me that the overflow on the “lawn” was not coming from the toilet despite the huge amount of toilet paper we were going through. This was a relief. Rather, it was a blocked grease trap. This he obligingly unblocked whilst giving me a little lecture on the wickedness of pouring oil down a sink. I hung my head in the manner of a naughty child but was silently scheming to buy myself a new dishwasher the minute their respective backs were turned. My washing machine would not be long without a friend to share his sanitary existence. Off went my BBQ and dishwasher to the tip where I am assured that owing to Bill's tradie charm, both were deposited without charge. Everyone should endeavour to have a plumber in the family. My visitors have now left and in many respects, I am still in the midst of the grieving process both for family and appliances. I hope this account of machine mayhem will prove to be cathartic. However, I cannot leave my readers without making at least a passing reference to the light that required two visits by an electrician to illuminate my kitchen. Issue 134 Feb 26, 2021
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