So there we had the electrician dismantling the stove. Because I thought he wouldn’t turn up for another few weeks I had begun boiling a large pot of volcanic polenta. Stirring polenta is what I do for relaxation on Mondays. The yellow depths of polenta were spitting and gurgling like Vesuvius. The electrician looked at it with caution. I moved the pot onto the side of the sink and then went out to hush the dogs barking their heads off in the garden.
My over-grown Great Dane puppy got himself into the kitchen and helped loosen some wiring at the back of the ancient stove. The electrician is a family man and fond of a naughty dog, so he began to arm-wrestle with the dog on the kitchen floor. After a few moments of friendly chaos, the electrician knocked the polenta onto the floor and the dog ate some, stood in some, sloshed some around. Then the electrician finished thermostating the stove and put it back together again. He arm-wrestled some more with the dog and put his back out. He had to go and rest on the sofa and the dog lay down on the floor beside him and chewed up the sleeve of his cardigan. I cleaned up the kitchen. and my small dogs came in and barked blue murder at the stranger lying on the sofa. The electrician says he may have to bill me for the ruined cardigan.
Despite this I felt much more cheerful. After mopping up and removing shreds of wool from the dog’s mouth, I reheated the polenta left in the pot, made grilled polenta slices with bitter greens and a little harissa relish for lunch.
There is so much about life we can’t control, we might as well just relax and enjoy the ride.