Today was to be a really exciting one for me.  My old range cooker was to be replaced by an all singing, all dancing, shiny, silver new one. I had remained loyal to the old one, but lately it had started to burn in one oven and undercook in the other.  The burners had to be lit manually and were getting harder and harder to clean.  However, as I cleaned it this morning in preparation for its departure, I felt quite sad. We've cooked an awful lot of meals together, that cooker and I.  Family gatherings, engagement parties, wedding celebrations, Christenings and plain old family meals.

I waited all day for the new model to arrive and after calling the number given and pressing 3 for enquiries, 2 for orders and 4 for deliveries, was told it would arrive between 2 and 6.  Just as I had given up it arrived a little after 6 when it was totally dark.  The two rather handsome guys who delivered it (ok, so I'm a granny - I can still look!) asked me to show them where my gas tank was situated so they could check the installation.  I led them out through the back door towards the side garden, but on the way I had a collision with a wheelbarrow.  There I was walking ahead of these guys (did my bum look big in these jeans?) when I suddenly found myself tripping over the handles.  Can you believe my husband left the darn thing in the middle of the path?  Everything happened in slow motion.  I caught my right leg and tried to steady myself up.  I reached towards a young Mimosa tree which was too light to hold me and so I felt over - straight into the pond.  The two guys rushed forward to grab me out and I emerged covered in grotty water plants and slimy leaves.  As I walked into the kitchen, the water pouring from my clothes, I shouted for my husband to come and help.  He was shocked to see this vision standing in the kitchen, hands out in the air, water pouring down from my jeans and my hair covered in weeds.  It was then that I was sure I noticed he suppressed a giggle.

I realised I couldn't take my clothes off in the kitchen as the two guys were behind me, so I made my way, dripping water everywhere, through the hall, up the stairs, down the landing, through the bedroom and into the bathroom.  There I peeled off my clothes while my husband ran the shower and fetched hot towels.  I allowed the warm water to fall over me and I stopped shivering.  Thinking about it I shuddered at how fortunate I was that I hadn't hit my head on the edge of the pond or broken any ribs.  Then I thought about how it must have looked and the giggles started.  I laughed until I couldn't stop.  I came out of the shower, dried myself and threw myself on a heap on the bed.  My husband came up to see how I was and thought I had collapsed.  When he saw me laughing, he joined in as he said he really couldn't believe his eyes when I came through the door.  All of our dogs have, from time to time, fallen in but I was the first human to have done so.  Downstairs I prepared myself to meet up with the delivery guys again.  It was obvious they were making a big effort to be professional, but on questioning them they confessed to having to go into the back of the van to laugh their heads off.  The older guy even rang his wife.  'Sorry I'm going to be late dear.  I was delivering a cooker to this woman and she just fell into a pond.  We've just fished her out.'  As you do!

The cooker didn't get fitted.  There were parts missing and the best thing was for them just to take it back to the warehouse.  The thing is, the old cooker looks really well and sort of comfortable and assuring.  Maybe it just isn't meant to go.  What do you think?