How Not to Write Poetry

This weekend I was mostly trapped at home waiting for a cooker delivery - "the perfect time to get some writing done'" a friend said. Well you might think so, but that is not how things panned out.

The said cooker was scheduled for delivery sometime on Sunday. On Saturday I frantically cleaned the kitchen - moving things out of the room to enable access, and cleaning the disgusting and very embarrassing mess that had accumulated down the side of the cooker. I also had to find the key to the padlock on the gate and make sure it worked, plus clear up a little present that either a cat or a fox had left on the back doorstep. (The plus side of this was that I discovered a stash of beer that had been put outside when the fridge was full at Christmas - result!) By the time I had finished all this I was exhausted, and it was as much as I could do to collapse on the sofa with a film and a beer.

Sunday dawned - the day I usually have a lie-in, but the email had said that the cooker could arrive anytime from 8am to 8pm, so I had to make sure we were up and breakfasted just in case we happened to be their first delivery. Next I went online to track my delivery. I typed in my delivery number and was informed that I could expect my delivery between 10.10am and 2.10pm. I resisted the urge to growl and decided to get on with some work. I wanted to edit some poems and type up some others. But here's the thing - when you know that two burly men can knock on your door at any second and expect you to jump up and open the gate etc. it is pretty hard to settle to any work. In the end I had to give up, as I just couldn't concentrate, and I decided to read a book instead. It didn't feel too much like cheating as I do have to finish it before the book group tomorrow night. Anyway, I reasoned, the cooker will be in by three at the latest: I can work then.

The delivery men (who were very friendly) arrived at about 1.30pm. They came into my kitchen and decided that there was no way that they could install my chosen cooker as the cupboards on either side are too low. I argued that I have had the same type of cooker there for fifteen years - but regulations have changed, so back the cooker went to the depot. I then spent half an hour on the (very expensive) helpline only to be told that I will have to ring back and sort it out on Monday. In the meantime I needed to go back to the drawing board and find another cooker that I could order in its place.

I bribed son with the promise of a cooked vegetarian breakfast at Morrison's cafe, and he drove me to Currys. The selection of cookers was small and the staff were unhelpful. I bought son and I breakfast and decided I would have to look online. Online though, whilst it sounds like an easy option, necessitates hours of trawling through websites comparing features prices and reviews. So as you can probably tell no writing or editing got done this weekend - and no baking as I am back to square one with the cooker. I am writing this whilst listening to some kind of demented piano music on the Knowhow helpline. Some time soon I will get some poetry done