31 March 2010
The last time I moved house, I bought a new set of cutlery – beech-handled (or rather beech-effect-handled), to match the floors.
Ever since then, the handles have been falling off the teaspoons. Not off the dessert spoons, not the knives, and not the salad forks, just off the teaspoons. They do it when the spoon breaks through the chocolate shell of those childish Easter cakes from Cadbury’s. They do it in just-past-freezing ice-cream. One of them even did it in a pot of tiramisu.
And now it’s happened again, with the last-but-one teaspoon, sending a bite of Easter cake on a triple salto down behind the laundry basket.
As household emergencies go, there are many worse (many, indeed, foreshadowed by the boiler that likes to say grrr clunk). Still, searching for the perfect teaspoon has suddenly become my plan for Easter weekend…