Here at home, we’re on our third automatic coffee machine (in, well, a lot of years; they do sterling service, but we work them hard). Our latest one is a significant step up in quality and price on its predecessors. Dr B is being, by his lights, conscientious beyond belief about cleaning it. Or so he says. Yeah. Not so much, if you know what I mean?
This morning, when YoungB came home from work, I offered to make him a coffee. The machine told me I needed to empty the grounds. Easy, right? Particularly as Dr B had thoroughly cleaned the machine only a couple of days ago. Just empty the tray. Yeah? It wasn’t that simple. I ended up getting out the vacuum cleaner! Luckily, and it’s perhaps its only saving grace, I have a vacuum cleaner with variable power settings. On minimum suction, and with YoungB doing a very poor job shining a light on things (he obviously didn’t inherit my theatre nurse gene), we managed the job. Yeah, right. What sort of coffee machine requires that much work??
Actually, the one at work is almost as bad. It, however, is an industrial number and – luckily for everyone – is cleaned after each round of use. I use it at major meetings that are my responsibility. Others use it for various events. Yes, it gets a lot of use and, industrial or not, it’s ageing. So, occasionally, it’s temperamental. Who do you think is the maven with all the tricks when it’s having a bad day? Yeah, that’d be me. There is no rhyme or reason to this, I assure you, because generally technology and I exist in a state of armed neutrality that occasionally boils over into active hostility.
Nothing a coffee wouldn’t fix. Right? And, sometimes, all you need is one of these.