My summer’s just become hotter ... and I don’t like it

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We all know it’s not been the hottest of summers, but over the past week mine has been a bit too warm.

It started a few nights ago when I was giving wee Jack his goodnight milk as his parents took themselves out for a “much-needed” break.

As I poured it into his beaker, the milk that I had just bought was lumpy and smelly.

Jack screwed up his face, signalling to me “I’m not drinking that, gran”, and I replaced it with some special-treat juice.

Anyway, after a long day at the office the next day, and the house to myself in the evening, I could think of nothing better than pouring myself a large glass of cool Sauvignon Blanc.

I sipped the distinctly lukewarm wine and noticed my glass didn’t have that lovely chilling effect.

Oh dear god, the fridge is goosed!

For years, I have lived in fear of my domestic appliances breaking down and now I was having to cope without one of my valued mod-cons.

There then followed a few hours of taking jars and sauces from the fridge, and binning the stuff that had been left to rot.

It was quite a sad affair actually, most notably saying goodbye to luxury ice-cream I’d picked up for half price the week before.

Jack’s fish fingers were soft and bendy, and my home-made mayo had gone the most horrid colour.

Right, Yellow Pages, fridge fixers!

Mmm, not too many choices in there. There were lots of people who repaired washing machines, but not much else.

I was soon informed by a colleague that washing machines were the only white goods worth fixing and, for anything else, you should just get a new one.

Right, John Lewis, integrated fridge-freezers. How much?

They are pricey to say the least so I called the manufacturer for advice.

“Turn it off for two days and then try again,” he said sternly, and then spoke some gobbledygook about air compression.

So there followed two days of warm white wine, butterless toast and crackers without cheese.

Also, every time I was in the kitchen, I instinctively opened the blasted thing out of sheer habit, and frowned as I looked inside the dark, empty vessel.

Anyway, tonight I’m turning the fridge back on to see if it’s working, but how will I know?

Do I turn it on and leave a sacrificial pint of milk in there to see if it lasts the night?

To be honest, I’m not holding out much hope it’ll come back to life; last night there was also a funny smell coming from it.

So, as you make your tea tonight, using all sorts of cooled products, think of me with warm wine and the prospect of an enormous credit card bill.