Inanimate Things That Annoy Me

Aubergine
The Saddam Hussein of vegetables. The taste, the texture, and the smugly self-satisfied look of an aubergine drive me to distraction. We were vegan growing up, and aubergine is the sine qua non of every vegan meal. I couldn’t stand it then, and I loathe it now. To this day I can smell a sliver of the stuff in an acre of lasagne. I’d rather find a finger in my pasta.

The Washing Machine
When our washing machine has finished, it lets you and (your postcode) know with a heart-stopping mechanical keening sound, like a flat-lining heart rate monitor, or a bawling baby appliance that needs a nappy change. This continues at 2 minute intervals, till you stop what you’re doing, mission to the scullery, and pull the plug. Since the instructions are in German, my best efforts with a phrase book have failed to find the words “Bitte machen Sie es aufhält!“ anywhere on its knobs and dials.

South African Bandwidth
Costly, temperamental, and slow as lichen. Not so much information superhighway, more a string and two tin cans. I spend a lot of time gazing at blank white loading screens. It'd be quicker to fax the internet, page by page.

Electric Dog Disneyland

This crazy wind’s got to the dogs too. We’ve just returned from the park and my nerves feel jangly as a ball of wire coat hangers. A trip to my local park with the dogs is not unlike taking a kid on a sugar rush on an outing: it’s a drag for you the adult, but for the dogs it’s like Disneyland at age 5 - on acid. The park is bordered by overhead power lines, and Frankie and Stankie may be induction-charging from them. As they enter the park, the slow, single-marble runs of their brains wind up to a pachinko machine ballstorm, endorphins red-line, and they race off like furry bottle rockets.

They gleefully chase ducks for miles, sniff strangers’ arses with the frowning concentration of chess champions, and cavort around in the park’s abundant overstuffed rubbish bins chomping down things that’d make a maggot gag. All the while, I lumber after them, wheezing like an old couch. If dogs are this chaotic, God only knows what children will be like. I’d likely just leave them hung by their dungaree straps on coat hooks for hours. That, or heroic amounts of Ritalin.