Well, our Summer trek for this year has entered its final week.
Mrs. Teaist and Teaist Junior fancied some pool-based action, so we headed off to Ronneby and its famous spa hotel, Ronneby Brunn.
While they were careering down slides and taking on wave machines I decided to enjoy some lazy sheng sessions on our room’s balcony.
Regular readers of this blog might just remember that when out travelling I have a knack of running into kettles that are somewhat less than fully functional, and this part of the trip was no exception. I took one look at the thing and just knew I was in for trouble. The lid was cracked, and large lumps of the outer casing were missing around the on-off switch.
The first day with it was frustrating but not particularly dangerous. It took about 5 or 6 attempts to get it to switch on – it kept wanting to flip back up into the “off” position. The next day, however, things took a sinister turn. After about 20 minutes of trying to get the hateful object to do its thing, I gave up. A half hour or so later I was in the bathroom when I heard an unmistakable roaring, bubbling noise, and hurried back out into our room. The damn thing had only gone and turned itself on!
Luckily it had done so when a) it was full of water, and b) I had been close at hand. The switch mechanism had failed once and for all, and for some unfathomable reason had dropped into the “on” position when deciding to end it all.
I briefly considered going down to reception to ask for a replacement, but seeing as it had taken an hour for us to check-in the day before, I calculated my odds of getting a better kettle before Christmas, never mind our departure date, as extremely slim to none.
Fortunately, at that very moment my womenfolk were at a local hypermarket getting some essential supplies in (i.e. chocolate and wasabi nuts), so I asked them to scout around for a cheap-ish kettle. Thankfully they found a suitable item, and brought it back to the hotel where I immediately got busy boiling water for my by now seriously delayed session.
Dave the kettle, as he has now been christened for reasons that have already been forgotten, will henceforth accompany us on all road trips. He can sit in the boot of the car until needed. Trailing him around seems a small price to pay when considering the alternatives – fire, electrocution, or worst of all, no tea.
After attaching a warning note for the cleaning staff to the killer kettle as well as tipping off the receptionist about the evil lurking in room 260 during checkout time, we bid farewell to Ronneby as we headed off again on the final leg of our trip before heading home. Our destination was the island of Öland…
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