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Death rattle
Jul. 13th, 2006 12:30 pmMy late grandmother's diaries are documents of immense historical importance, recording significant moments in world history. Who could forget - who would ever want to forget - that in the spring of 1953 "Bill ate the Bellman's toilet seat"? *
Christmas 1950 sees the dutiful recording of her big present: every housewife's dream, a yellow Sunbeam Mixmaster (it's the 1948 model pictured at the bottom). A wondrous workhorse of a machine! One popped up on Collectors a few weeks ago, as a valuable and funky antique. So popular is the Mixmaster among the retro set that Sunbeam have apparently recently created a modern version.
I scoff at these Johnny-come-latelies, for I have The Original. That's right, my grandmother's 1950 Christmas present is faded and battered and minus its dough hook, but otherwise still going strong nearly fifty-six years later. Until today, that is, when I was whipping up some lemon curd in an attempt to use up some lemons (my dwarf tree has gone mad, and my kitchen is overrun with yellow citrus). There was a strange clink and clang and suddenly there was lemon mixture going everywhere. One of the beaters had come undone and was now a long, twisted ribbon of metal, banging and bending the other beater. Fortunately I had a spare, so I could finish the curd with one good beater and one slightly bent one. The bend is making it rattle against the good beater though, and I fear that they may both break too, leaving my middle-aged Mixmaster useless.
Fifty-six year-old beaters are not easy to find, but the quest has begun.
* Understanding her stories is another matter entirely. The key to that particular entry is knowing that the Bill in question was not Bill Bellman, patriarch of the neighbouring farm, but his eponymous pet cockatoo.
Christmas 1950 sees the dutiful recording of her big present: every housewife's dream, a yellow Sunbeam Mixmaster (it's the 1948 model pictured at the bottom). A wondrous workhorse of a machine! One popped up on Collectors a few weeks ago, as a valuable and funky antique. So popular is the Mixmaster among the retro set that Sunbeam have apparently recently created a modern version.
I scoff at these Johnny-come-latelies, for I have The Original. That's right, my grandmother's 1950 Christmas present is faded and battered and minus its dough hook, but otherwise still going strong nearly fifty-six years later. Until today, that is, when I was whipping up some lemon curd in an attempt to use up some lemons (my dwarf tree has gone mad, and my kitchen is overrun with yellow citrus). There was a strange clink and clang and suddenly there was lemon mixture going everywhere. One of the beaters had come undone and was now a long, twisted ribbon of metal, banging and bending the other beater. Fortunately I had a spare, so I could finish the curd with one good beater and one slightly bent one. The bend is making it rattle against the good beater though, and I fear that they may both break too, leaving my middle-aged Mixmaster useless.
Fifty-six year-old beaters are not easy to find, but the quest has begun.
* Understanding her stories is another matter entirely. The key to that particular entry is knowing that the Bill in question was not Bill Bellman, patriarch of the neighbouring farm, but his eponymous pet cockatoo.
