The Suicide Blender of Death

Housewives Tarot

My regular reader will already know, and commiserate with my family, that I hate to cook. I can cook, but I think too many years where it was part of my job has ruined it as a pleasurable experience for me; in fact - whisper it very gently for you know not who listens - I know lots about it, and am rather good at it when I don't walk away forgetting all about what's simmering on the stove.

But in fact, I am here to declare that I am the Nigel Mansell of kitchen blenders - he didn't become the Formula 1 World Champion until his engineering team managed to build a car that could withstand his abuse assertive style of driving, and I have 3 broken blenders in my immediate past because I haven't had one that can take what I give it.

No, it isn't from dicing up raw mangelwurzels or ignoring the warnings in the booklet and crushing ice for my strawberry daiquiris: I use a blender for smoothies, milkshakes and soups. Well, yes, and the strawberries for the daiquiris, of course.

I know, right ? Just I am super unlucky in having 3 consecutive machines that were obviously not fit for purpose.

Just as well then, that Titch was asked what we would like for Xmas, and I said ' a decent blender'.

the actual model; except with fresh fruit

And Lo ! A blender arrived and all was well and there were many smiles of satisfaction and anticipation. Even more so because it looked like a Ferrari of blenders: friends, according to the label, there is nothing this machine cannot do. It has a bazillion different attachments and fittings, it can grind your coffee beans and blend your soup; it can juice green leafy things and it can chop and mush and ... oh, all kinds of exciting things that I would never ordinarily think of.

So I thought I'd try it out with a nice simple home-made Pea & Ham Soup (that is the actual recipe I used). But without Ham because of veggie Mini Diva.

Yes, I do remember the joke about Kermit and the liquidizer, thank you.

Anyway.

The one startling omission from this amazing piece of machinery equipped with super-sharp blades (2 kinds !) that cut, slice and dice and that do that cutting by whizzing round at faster-than-light speeds is .... an On/Off button.

To operate this equipment, you simply plug it in to the wall socket, and off it goes. As did my heart attack. Luckily the lid was on, so at least I was spared having to clean the ceiling and walls of green paste.

I could not believe it.

I spent quite some time searching through the manual, and the machine itself, searching for the location of the 'Power' button. I even asked the kids to check for me - you never quite know how senility might affect one. What I did find were several repeated warnings on many different pages of the manual about the danger posed to one's fingers by sharp blades. Ya think ??

The chance of random digit mutilation is just not a risk I am happy to take, especially with a Destructo Boy in the house, so I am looking up old-fashioned 'proper' blenders while this one sits abandoned in the shed. I know, but I'm afraid party-pooping is a hazard of getting older, and this is too close to the Raggedy Edge for me.