Full frontal fridge

Well the big old fridge is gone from the hallway at last and we no longer have to squeeze past it dozens of times a day. I had become quite good at this: although I had to turn sideways I didn’t slow down or drop even a morsel of anyone’s dinner.
Now, the simple pleasure of an unobstructed pathway feels like luxury.

The new fridge has a device called a bottle snuggler. It looks like a mould from a knight-in armour’s-codpiece and is supposed to stop your drinks from toppling over. Right Foot and I tried in vain to install it but just could not figure out how it was meant to go.

With the new fridge in situ it was time to stock up on a few favourite tipples. I should have taken the bottle snuggler with me. After a spend up in Dan Murphy’s I called in to Priceline to pick up a prescription. Plastic bags these days biodegrade within minutes and while I waited for my medication a bottle of James Boag fell on the floor and cracked. Soon the unmistakable aroma of bitter beer wafted outwards and upwards from my feet towards the very soignée female pharmacist. How embarrassment! Oh well, at least it wasn’t a VB.