A Squash and a Squeeze by the wonderful writer/ artist duo
of Julia Donaldson and Azel Scheffler, was, much to my delight, my youngest
daughter’s favourite book a lifetime ago. Only young, I think the fable of its
message passed her by, she simply loved the sing-song rhyme, joining in with, ‘Wise
old man won’t you help me please, my house is a squash and a squeeze,’ with gusto.
However, I’ve been referring to the brilliant simplicity of this tale ever
since.
Move over Aesop.
A tired old lady seeks the help of the local vicar when her
house on the farm just feels too small. It’s a fair gripe, the house is poky.
Instead of instructing the Hand Of God, however, the vicar commands the lady to
fill her house, one by one, with her animals. How on earth will that help? the
woman cries but, nonetheless, trusts in the vicar’s wisdom.
Once she’s filled her house with every one of her animals
then summarily removed them all, the house no longer feels a Squash and a
Squeeze but positively roomy. Clever vicar.
A few weeks ago, my boiler broke. I returned after a night
out to find the floor around it flooded but, once ascertained that this was indeed
boiling water and not oil and I would thus not need to evacuate the sleeping
household, I simply switched off the boiler and hoped that my Carlsberg of a boiler
engineer would be able to fix it quickly and cheaply the next day.
Oh dear.
 |
| The new one - not so different from the old. |
The boiler had died. Over the next three weeks the floor had
to be replaced as the leak had caused it to rot and my washing machine was
threatening to slip through into the foundations below. Meanwhile, I had to amass
quotes with constant sharp-intaking of breath. Phew! Oil (gas hasn't made it to
our village yet) boilers are expensive.
During the wait for the new boiler, I:
- learnt that there is an optimum temperature under which
clothes, particularly children’s school skirts, will not dry
- rekindled my love for our wood burning stove, the kettle
and the oil-filled radiator.
- fell in love with the immersion heater
- realised that the immersion heater does not heat more than
enough water for half a shower and was reminded that being stranded with a head-full
of shampoo and the deluge of cold water to wash it away, is tantamount to torture
- realised that tumble driers still shrink clothes however
desperate the washer woman’s plight.
- used over a pound of sugar in the oil engineer’s tea.
Honestly – three spoons in every cup and skinny as a pole with, as far as I could
tell, great teeth.
- learnt that even fingerless gloves are not conducive to typing
- adored the winter quilt
Now, I don’t believe that a boiler breaking down when you
are fortunate enough to have a rainy day fund to tap into (do you see what I
did there?), is anywhere near a crisis. Yes, our health is the most important
pre-requisite to happiness and four walls also help a lot. But I have to say, when the temperature plummeted and my fingers became so cold I had to plunge
them into a bowl of water direct from the boiled kettle (I know, I know), my
eldest daughter was going to bed in pyjamas, gloves and slippers and my
youngest announced that she hadn’t had a shower for four days because she kept
missing the one-shower-a-night slot, the passage from old boiler to new did become
a little trying.
The Carlsberg engineer fitted the new boiler in only two of the
allotted three days. The house warmed up like a Ready Brek advert and, once my
family were showered and cleansed and packed off to warm beds, I had a bath; a
full, steaming, bubbly bath. Never has hot water felt so luxurious nor bubbles
so soft. How much do I now appreciate constant hot water and warm toes? The
instant gratification of pink skin again, was almost worth the time without.
This was my Squash and a Squeeze moment. Or should I say, my
Damp and a Freeze?
Have you had a Squash and a Squeeze moment recently? Please share!
