24 July, 2008
I’ve just remembered my toaster - a Russell Hobbs two decker. It was a present from my mum after I moved into my first flat in Highgate, now five years ago. My mum currently has a four decker here. I think such decadence has not been seen since Marie Antoinette.
The last time I saw it was as we were packing up our last flat. I loved that little toaster. It knew its place in the world and took joy in fulfilling it. Not only would it make excellent toast on any setting, but delivered it with a joy that was undeniable - hurling it into the air as if to say “Wheeeeeeeeeee! I love my liiiiiiiiiiife!” I need anthropomorphosized kitchenware like that in my life.
What did I do with it? I can’t remember if I gave it to my ex-flatmates, or left it there for a new owner to find a similar joy in its contentment. Either way, I hope it’s being used. A little toaster like that with such a capacity for love should be used, and as often as possible.
As palliatives go, toast is one of the very best.
An exuberant toaster hits the mark so neatly.
Comment by drodbar — 25 July, 2008, 12:11 am
ohhh what a sweet, sweet post! Loved this .. if it could be located i may have to sidle up to that toaster and offer it a home …
Comment by Shell — 28 July, 2008, 10:21 pm
Perhaps that toaster has taught you all it need to in life and is now sharing it’s lessons with someone more needy. Or…
Having live in share houses a fair bit, I’ve lost a few toasters and one reappeared about six years after a flatmate swiped it and a new flatmate in a new house bought it at a pawn shop.
Ah, the (toast) cycle of life!
Comment by Holden — 8 November, 2008, 2:04 am