The missing widget.

The new hoover needs to be assembled. Easy enough if all the parts are there. Impossible if they're not. A return trip to the electrical store for the missing widgets. 

'' Happy-Technologie ! " says the sign on the outside. This is a message that hasn't percolated through to the staff on the inside. 

' But Monsieur all the parts were there when you bought it ' says the middle aged lady behind the desk. She has clearly been to the same charm school as the Skoda salesman. We discuss the matter. Finally , after filling out a lengthy form, the hoover is replaced. A new box is brought to the checkout desk. The saleslady opens the box , rummages around inside and holds up a small plastic bag containing the truant nuts. She pointedly counts them. '' Voila Monsieur. All is in order. I've checked ". The '' I've checked '' part of the sentence is stressed. She glares at me in much the same way she might glare at a serial widget stealer.

Home to find another electrical store delivering the new dishwasher. '' There's nothing down here about installing it " says a young man with a clipboard. ' Oh yes there is ' replies an Angus who is increasingly wise to the ways of European workmen. The dishwasher is installed in silence.

Late afternoon. The morose garden lads return . They lay more turf and scatter more grass seed. The gardens resemblance to Gracelands grows with each passing day. At five to five they go.