How many people does it take to change a lightbulb?

I used to think just one, until last night, when POOF, my bedside light blew up for the second time in a week! When it happened the first time, I could see the filament in the bulb had gone so last night when Shakira-Shakira and I were in Asda, I bought a new box of bulbs.

Then, I dashed home and popped one in – and nothing happened. So I sat and pondered while watching One Tree Hill and finally decided to check the fuse. I’ve got a rather large collection of fuses on account of the hoover and iron episode last month. I replaced it and proclaimed, ‘Let there be light!’ in my best God voice. And there was, for about 1 second – before POOF, it blew again.

Perhaps it’s my electric personality, I don’t know – but everything electrical I touch at the moment seems to break or blow up. First it was the iron – there I was ironing my favourite jacket in preparation for my visit to the zoo (see Things I Know Now…) when I suddenly heard a POOF, fizzle, and a POP and a whisp of smoke came out of the iron – sadly, not followed by a genie.

It continued to smoke considerably so I unplugged it and put it in the bath, odd I know, but it seemed like the safest place for smouldering electrical equipment! Then, just two day’s later I was vacuuming the hall when SPLUTTER, GASP, GROAN, the hoover ground to a halt.

*squeak

Praying it was the fuse and not something fatal, I dashed off to the hardware store down the road to stock up. But once home, it soon became clear the hoover was dead as a Dodo, kaput, stuffed, a goner. Cue, big Argos order…

Now, is it dodgy electrics, or am I doing to all these things? To be fair, the agency did come round and replace the iron- and hoover-killing plug socket – but what about my lamp? Am I negatively charged somehow? And if I am, can I turn this around to help cut my electricity bills and relieve me of my impending ‘fuel poverty’?

I’m not really sure if that’s the answer to be honest as it’s not just electrical stuff I have an adverse affect on. My poor mobile hates me so much that the display is now permanently upside down. This means that sending a text is a bit like rubbing your tummy and patting your head at the same time. Bloody difficult. Perhaps I should stick to simple technology from now on, like Aga-heated irons, brooms, oil lamps and carrier pigeons. And, if I apply this to every aspect of my life, that means instead of hearing aids, I will have to get a nice shiny ear trumpet, like the one the grandma has in ’Allo ’Allo.

*Ediiiiiiiiiith? Ediiiiiiiiith?