I love having children

There is a fridge just off my bedroom.

(Do not ask. This is the House of Grit. All things are possible, and many are probable. Any normal day may begin with a public demonstration of earlobe nerve-endings supported with a biological teaching head, and end with a procession of people dressed as trees. It has been done before.)

Anyway, the fridge stopped working. It lost all sense of its own temperature, and went straight to freeze.

Thus providing me with a freezer! Just off my bedroom.

(A freezer is far more useful to me, because I can freeze soup.)

Some time elapsed between the many uses of my bedroom (sealing up the rat hole and the construction of a naiad costume*). But it is from this period that I began to notice a most peculiar smell. Not the ordinary aromas of my boudoir. (Fragrant lavender scented linen! A fresh spray of cologne! A touch of Mitsouko parfum, if you're buying!) This smell was more - hmmm - how would you put it? Melted plastic and rotting vegetable.

After a great deal of sniffery exploration, I tracked the source of this particular complex aroma. My helpful child - how helpful they can be! - had switched off the power to my soup freezer in the mistaken belief they were switching off the glue gun!

(This will explain a few things, I feel. Although possibly not the glue gun.)

And so this is my diary entry for today. It has been a great success. I have excavated four moulded bowls of soup from a broken fridge off my bedroom, and peeled a large blob of melted glue off the wall.


*Naiads.