Guess what. My bread maker has died.
Well and truly popped its clogs. It is no moar. It is an ex-bread maker.
It has ceased to be. SOB
Yesterday my Techie Adviser asked me if the bread maker should be making a whop-whop whoppetty whop noise. I was in the garden at the time and he was helping me.
“It’s been making odd noises for a while,” I said, continuing to mulch. (There was a lot of mulching to do, as a mega-bag full had been delivered onto the driveway, in front of the garage.)
Later I walked past it, my Panasonic life enhancer, on my way through the utility to the garage. Hmmm. Certainly not a happy noise. I lifted the lid and looked in. Despite the noise no mixing was actually happening. The rotatory bit was no longer rotating, just trying to. Luckily it had given up part way through the long 5 hour cycle, and the dough had received sufficient mixing for a decent loaf to be produced. So enough for today’s sandwiches, but while out I remembered just in time to buy some ready for tomorrow’s lunch.
This bread maker has been going for years – we have lost track and certainly don’t have the receipt.
It has had two or three new blades and a new tin or two in its life.
If I’m completely honest my heart sank when I realised what the Cyclomaniac had given as a Christmas present all those years ago. The children were still quite small and my life quite busy. My immediate thought was,
“Not another bloody machine to look after.”
However, once the idea of building the bread maker loading into my routine established itself the machine proved to be an invaluable ‘white good’ enabling me to make impressive bread with a few hours warning, for dinner parties, for breakfast, for sandwiches -etc.
I inherited a bread storage bin – (one of those old-fashioned enamelled tins that sit on the corner of the counter) but I already had one, a round one.
So this newly acquired rectangular bread bin became the ‘home’ for nearly everything needed to make bread… the yeast, the flour, the milk powder, and it fits neatly into the cupboard below. I printed off the preferred recipe and pinned it inside one of the cupboard doors, and taught everyone how to make the bread. Even Scout, who is no longer Scout, but an Exploder.
Over the years I have devised new recipes and introduced seeds and soya flour to the mix, to increase the amount of phytoestrogens in our diet. (Not only good for peri-menopausal, menopausal women and post-menopausal women, but some evidence to say they can reduce the risk of prostate cancer too.)
Last week, out of the blue, my aunt offered me her bread maker that she doesn’t use. I turned it down.
How was I to know that the death of my bread maker would occur only days later?
Now I have to make that phone call.
“Would it really be OK for me to have your bread maker? Please?”