We (I) Obtain a Microwave

Well, the newness is wearing off, and it doesn't feel like a vacation anymore. Is this a good thing? Time will tell.

One thing we needed that our kitchen didn't have was a microwave oven. I turned to London's version of Craig's List, called Gumtree, for the solution. I found a listing from someone several blocks away who was moving abroad and needed to sell their 800-watter. I arranged to walk over and return by cab. Due to this individual's need to see lots of people before they left the country, (sound familiar?) our meet-up was postponed two days. No clue who I was dealing with, but sounded sincere and trustworthy on the phone.

In the interim, I went for an explore to the Maida Vale tube stop. This is one stree north and two streets west of us, about an eight minute walk, during which I noted several shops that might come in handy. I decided to pop over there to get a Tube map and talk to the Bakerloo Line station attendant about how to get to the IKEA store in Wembley, that is reachable by taking that line. He informed me that it was not possible to do that (althought the IKEA literature maintained that they ran a shuttle bus to their store from a Bakerloo Line stop). You CAN get to IKEA from a stop on the Jubilee Line (St. John's Wood station, also nearby), but you have to walk 20 minutes from the stop to the store. Who wants to do that when IKEA tells you there is a shuttle option?)

So I wandered back to A Flat On Abbey Road, somewhat disgruntled, as I had been looking forward to the IKEA run, as we need lots of small things to keep us organized.

On the night of the microwave pickup, I almost forgot to go out at 8:30 pm, and phoned "Nigel" (not his real name) to tell him I'd be a few minutes late. Hubster was already asleep, so I was going it alone. He suggested bringing a rolling suitcase with which to haul away the microwave. Brilliant!! I headed out with the rolling duffel bag from Bldg 19 over my shoulder, as night descended on Abbey Road.

This time, I got confused, thinking that the Maida Vale tube stop could be reached by a slightly different route. I miscalculated, and was nowhere near the right intersection. Hmm, should I go north on Maida Vale toward the lighted intersection, or south towards....darkness. I went North. When I spotted the London Islamic Centre next to the Marriott Maida Vale, I knew I had gone in the wrong direction. Cars and busses whizzed by me on Maida Vale, a very busy street with a divider down the middle. I hoofed it southward again, propelling myself at a pace that only a native New Yorker can achieve. It was a warm night (in the upper 60's) and I certainly got my exercise. No fear, just a dogged determination to get there before "Nige" gave up on me. I had asked him about his neighborhood and he had assured me it was very High Class, although not as nice as Abbey Road!

After about ten minutes of going in the wrong direction, then heading back, I got to the address of his flat only 20 minutes after I had left mine. There it was, just next to the Harlequin Cleaners, which I had noticed during my trip to the Maida Vale Tube Station. Odd that I walked right by the microwave's house before I knew "Nigel's" address.

He buzzed me into the creaky interior hallway, which had a push-button light that only stayed on for thirty seconds. I made my way up two flights to the tiniest landing every built. Did I want to come into his flat? No, I decided not. He looked like a perfectly respectable young professional, but I decided I would wait on the landing while he brought me the microwave. Didn't I want to make sure that it worked? The Gumtree site advised you to not hand over any money until you are sure the thing that you are buying works. I said: "Does it work?" He laughed and said yes, it works. He disappeared and returned with a fairly large microwave oven. I handed over the thirty pounds. He loaded it into my rolling duffel bag and gallantly carried down to the street level for me. I wished him well in Australia. He said did I need a toaster or a coffee maker? I said we were all set. He wished us well on Abbey Road, and off I rolled with my new appliance, reaching my flat in about ten minutes (some of it uphill). I could hear the revolving glass plate banging around inside the oven as I pulled it along over the paving stones and up "kerbs".

The microwave made a grand entrance in the Edwardian-era lift. Even with the delay, I had made it back within the window of time I had given Teen before I left.

The microwave DOES work. We just don't know exactly how, as there is no instruction booklet. I have successfully set the clock, and cooked green beans. Yay, "Nigel" and Gumtree! (i.e. the underground economy with no Value Added Tax.)