What is it about Toasters? I mean, why the hell, don’t they bloody work? Most of the Toasters in my life have been absolute bastards. These mean machines do toast, but in their own fashion, you know.
The first toasting machine I ever bought, just burnt things; never saw the toast, just a plume of smoke from the bally thing, and some cindered remains resting at the bottom. It was like running my own private crematorium.
Time went by…another Toaster in my life; this one had a nasty trick of chucking the toast out, and brother, you sure had to jump fast to catch it. Most mornings, my breakfast landed on the kitchen floor.
The current machine in my life, is a contrary little Miss – some mornings its pops the uncooked bread out, ‘No toast today, thank you..’
I set it at 4, I set it at 6. ‘Nae bother lassie…..go hungry.’
I know someone who has a well behaved Toaster – it does the job, the bread is golden brown. Little does its owner know how much I covet his Toaster. Little does he know.