This is a long and complex story (with apologies to my friend Nes who has heard it all).
I owned a lovely silver toaster when I met B. He owned an old TV toaster grill thingy that was falling apart. He moved from Howick (7 hours away from me) to Hazyview (2 hours away from me) which was fabulous but his toaster disintegrated. Luckily, the lady who was handing him her house felt sorry for him and donated her wonderful shiny silver toaster to him. Sadly things didn’t work out well in Hazyview and the decision was made that B would move up to Hoedspruit and in with me while he looked for another job. We were now going to have two toasters!
During this time my shiny silver toaster started playing up and I had to hold the handle down to toast any bread which was a bit of an issue. B said “oh really don’t worry, I am going to be there soon with my toaster so throw yours out.” So I said good bye to mine and looked forward to B arriving with his.
The day arrived when all his boxes were delivered which we piled into one cottage with all of his furniture. We searched and searched but we could not find his toaster. The box he had packed it in must have been right at the bottom of the heap. So for a year we were grilling bread in the oven or in a pan while we bemoaned the fact that we couldn’t find our toaster.
As soon as B moved again to Nelspruit where he found a great job, we were sure we would unearth the box that held the precious cargo. I unpacked boxes for three days and I never found the phantom toaster.
On Sunday the enormous decision was taken to finally purchase a new toaster (hurrah!). I was happy to get a small plastic one but B decided after all our pains that I deserved a really fancy expensive one.
As soon as we got home I celebrated by making some lovely soup and decided to warm some buns on the top of the new machine which I promptly set on fire.
Really on fire.
I think I am cursed!