First world annoyances
In the big picture, our world is in danger of falling apart. That doesn’t mean that everyday annoyances are not still, well, annoying. I think these are referred to as first world problems.
Most of mine are kitchen-related. I mean, how do you open a square ring-pull tin when the ring-pull has snapped off? Why, no matter how vigorously you stir it, is there always a horrible lump of undissolved gunge at the bottom of your cup soup? Why do squeezy bottles of tomato ketchup cease being squeezable when only two-thirds used? Ditto salad cream. You then have to remove the top and shake, resulting in huge blobs of said substances messing up your cheese sarnie!
Please tell me how, with my arthritic thumbs, am I supposed to remove that little foil seal that lurks under the milk bottle cap? I really don’t want my guests to know I use my teeth. Whoops! Now they do know.
As for that folding dish rack I bought online from a well-known and trusted brand. A boon to campers and caravanners it said. In my little abode I’m keen on spacesavers. But not ones that send all my dishes crashing to the floor. Luckily, bearing my clumsiness in mind, I switched to unbreakable melamine some years back. And that dish rack is going straight onto the prize table at Lady Margaret’s Bingo and Raffle Nite at Widcombe Social Club in December. I feel it might become like the notorious fondue set that returned raffle after raffle some years back.
And now, folks, fruit flies. In the current warm and humid weather these pesky critters are having a heyday. I counted 50 on a single orange the other day. I hasten to add that my kitchen is immaculate, but still the food recycling bin would be surrounded by a little cloud of tiny hopefuls, waiting for me to lift the lid. A couple even got into my cheese sauce in the fridge!
They are immune to every known insecticide. Believe me, I’ve run the gamut of all the sprays and wipes the Guildhall Market can provide. They are faster than the fastest flick of a tea towel, and multiply, well, like rabbits.
But I have the answer. Water. Wasn’t it those killer plants the Triffids that, having run amok, shrivelled and died after a short, sharp shower? You just fill an old kitchen surface cleaner spray bottle, preferably with a residue of its former contents, with tap water. Zap! Unlike your flapping tea towel, they can’t see water coming. It either kills them instantly or leaves them stunned long enough for the final deed to be carried out digitally. By that, I mean using your finger.
Thus, I have reduced my unwelcome visitors from many hundreds to a stalwart few. And a very therapeutic process it has been too! In fact, when they’ve all gone, I’m going to feel abandoned.
Time to go after those pigeons that seem to have taken over my balcony.
Where’s my squirter?
Ralph Oswick was artistic director of Natural Theatre for 45 years and is now an active patron of Bath Comedy Festival