Here is my article from last weeks Irish Examiner’s Feelgood. Warning, no husbands were hurt in the writing of this article!
Our printer died. This might be ‘fake news’ to some of you but it has sent shock waves through our house, resulting in wailing, shouting, arguments and blame. It would appear it’s all my fault.
Personally I believe it passed away due to overwork and under appreciation, perhaps I am next?
For years we didn’t ask too much of it, a gentle request now and again to copy a few pages or print notes but in recent months the almost qualified teacher of the house, has been very demanding. It would appear pupils in fourth class require the equivalent of a tree per person in printing. We learned to get used to its noise in the background of everyday life, churning out page after page of colourful visuals.
All was sailing along nicely until the ink ran out… again. We bought a new batch, for a considerable sum, and the fair-minded almost qualified teacher forked out to pay for it. No sooner was the ink loaded into the printer than it made some rather serious roars and wails before sighing deeply and shutting down.
“Maybe it blew a fuse?” I wondered. I am not sure what exactly this means, but I’d often heard it asked growing up.
Not knowing how to investigate my fuse theory we continued pressing on, off.
“Perhaps it got too hot?” I suggested, feeling the back of the printer which was cool to the touch.
“I know!” I said, resorting to the unplug and wait technique which has worked in the past. Who knew a minute could last so long? Plugging it in again we held our breath… nothing. She who prints too much left the room abruptly, this may or may not mean ‘left the room in a temper’.
A few minutes later, car keys and purse in hand, she returned ready to move on. I waved her off suggesting she find the same printer as the one which had croaked as it contained a mortgage in new ink inside.
In the silence that followed I reached for a cup of tea to steady my nerves.Before I’d finished the phone rang. There were no similar printers to be found. I wisely said very little but the following day headed to the shops myself.
I’m usually pretty good at this. I knew we needed something not too heavy on ink, which prints quickly and double sided. To my delight I found one and joy of joys it was much cheaper than I’d budgeted for.
I couldn’t wait to deliver my gift. How grateful she would be?
Wrong. The cheap as chips printer was slower beyond measure and when they said ‘double sided’ they meant you must turn the page yourself each time. It was enough to send the almost teacher over the edge and me with her.
Thankfully friends and her father came to the rescue and fourth class got the education they needed. After a few days the almost teacher got used to sitting by the printer, manually turning page after page. Life began to settle down until…
For no apparent reason Himself stumbled, landing his size ten shoe from a height, upon the new printer which for some reason was on the floor. There was a sickening crack…printer number two, broken.
So today, yer man with the big feet departed to purchase printer number three. I tried to advise, but he insisted he is very familiar with printers. Moments ago I heard him return, to the sound of a very excited dog jumping all around him, closely followed by a loud crash as he fell to the floor, new printer and all.
Fingers crossed we are not moving on to printer number four?
London Irish Graduate Network