but our friendly electrician 'phoned at midday yesterday and said, "Oh good, you are home. I'm sending Ben around to put that new switch in." This is the switch for the air conditioning unit, the one on which the 'temporary' repair was done in mid-July. He was supposed to be here the following week.
Given the time lapse and the shock to my system I just say, "Yes, thankyou. We are here." As I put the 'phone down I realise that Ben is going to have to turn the power off. Lunch is not a problem. The computer is. I hastily save some work and send an e-mail to someone telling them to expect a delay. I can go to the Post Office while Ben is busy. Dad can go on clearing out the corner of the shed.
When I get back from the Post Office Ben is busy doing the complicated things that electricians do with wires and screws and switches. After saying hello I head inside. I am greeted by the faint smell, the too faint smell, of partially baked bread. I had not remembered the bread.
I open the lid of the bread machine and look in. It had started to bake. It had about forty minutes to go. It is now barely warm. Cautiously I take the baking bucket out of the machine.
Can it be rescued?
The dough is just cooked enough to slide out easily - and then it sinks like a deflated balloon. I need to make more bread today.