The Bingergread Cottage, where I live, where all the authors come to be interviewed and eat cake, is in mourning. We’ve had a death in the family. Our beloved woodstove Marlene (so called because she was a DeDietrich) has finally smoked out the kitchen for the last time.
I saved her life when we moved in and the Old Feller wanted to remove her. As I was brought up cooking on a Rayburn I stood in front of her with my arms out, “Over my dead body!”
She has been a good friend for ten years but was a very old lady and quite cranky in her last months, belching smoke out of every gap and sulking when I wanted to cook. So her carcass is now outside, awaiting a visit from the council “heavies” in September.
Her replacement is a brand new Godin – very fancy, very stylish but I have a niggling worry that it is going to be like replacing your old granny as a child-minder with a snooty woman from the agency…it won’t be the same.
So authors, when you come around to chat, there will still be cake and stuff but…don’t mention Marlene, I might just cry.