Tuesday, June 08, 2004

Paddling

I have searched far and wide, physical store and virtual warehouse. There are officially no pedestal fans in all of London, England. This is not unlike the situaion LAST summer. Do the stores here learn? No. It's a hell of a lot more fun to have merchandise on shelves that doesn't move and angry customers asking why the hell an electrical appliance store still doesn't have any fans (even though we asked last week and the week before and the week before...)

So M and I have been emailing back and forth over the sane-ness of buying a severely overpriced, tatty-boxed fan displayed in a store window nearby. The store itself is one of those that seems to be plagued by Trek-like time bubbles. The window display features said fan, various (sound, video) cards for computers and a TV so old that it has wood-effect laminate on it's sides.

The email I received from M a few moments ago:

Creek.*
You.
Me.
No Paddle.
Argument.
Fight.
Pokes, prods and scratches.
You saying you're right.
Me talking you down.
You saying I'm right without believing it.
Resignation at situation.
Me fixing the (now) broken equipment in the canoe.
You coming up with an inventive solution involving paperclips.
Me admitting it's nutty but could work.
Claire no longer laughing at us from the creek bank, throws rope.
We reject rope to see if paperclip idea works.
We start playing with more paperclips.
We drift downstream after an enjoyable day...

* Australian expression for being in trouble: "Up shit creek without a paddle." This the poetry of a nation that doesn't dance around issues. God, do I miss it.

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