Kia ora, last Sunday morning I made a plunger of coffee, forgot my left shoulder is not working (how the hell could I forget this?), went to get some toast from the toaster and knocked over the plunger of just-made coffee. Coffee went everywhere. It went high (into the toaster), low (eg all down the wall, into the dishwasher and the drawer below and all over the floor. Even managed a few splashes on the fridge opposite.
I uttered a few Chaucerian phrases addressed to my shoulder, the plunger and the coffee and ran to get towels. I chucked one on the floor and then tried to wipe the worst of the coffee off the wall, the dishwasher and the bench, with the other. I knew the toaster was a goner. Then I realised that the coffee had somehow got itself into the stand the kettle rests on…
Liquids and electricity? Okay. So – new jug and toaster.
Could have been disaster, could have been a downer and maybe it was a little until I saw the purple jug and the purple toaster.
I cheered up instantly. There’s something about that colour that I love and it always reminds me of the poem ‘When I’m an old woman I will wear purple… by Jenny Jones – if you don’t know it look it up.
So now I have a purple toaster and a purple electric jug (to go with the purple iron I bought some time ago) and every time I look at them instead of feeling grumpy about the events that led to these forced purchases, I feel great. I know, I know, not everything is subject to the colour purple’s cheering-up function but this was one of times when it did.
