When your TV breaks down during the World Cup you lose all sense of economic caution
Or maybe you are different, and carry out a risk analysis. You figure out it doesn’t matter. You will be able to watch the matches with a room-full of fans at a nearby pub. Or, you select the most accommodative relative or neighbour or friend or any combination of the three you can think of, and start checking dates. Or, you do what I did.
You switch the set off and take the plug out of the wall and put it back again and switch on. The screen remains blank.
It was all right last night
Who turned it off last night? Whoever. It was all right last night. Now it’s an ex-Tele, dead, departed, not even a flicker of red from the standby light. You start a list of friends who ‘know about fixing the Tele’.
It is Friday lunchtime. England has limped (almost metaphorically) through the qualifying stages of the World Cup. For that other breed of masochist, followers of British tennis, Murray is doing a similar last-hope-for-the-country thing at Wimbledon. They even brought the Queen in after thirty years absence from the Royal Box to make sure Murray won through the second round. There aren’t going to be pubs showing all the Wimbledon matches. So it’s a double whammy.
What to do?
Of course. Call Susan. Did you turn the television off last night? It’s not working. Go down the village, Susan says. Now. There’s a TV place. Yes. That’s it. I go in some haste to the village. There is a line of anxious-looking customers outside the shop, and a cortege of illegally parked cars with red and white flags on. [No, that was just me fantasizing]. As I feared, all TV repair engineers were out fixing broken-down TVs. Booked out until the day of the final.
Buy another one
Have to buy another one. But can someone come immediately? No. By Monday? Well, maybe. If I buy one now, can you guarantee to get in down the road today. No.
Some more discrete haggling, me assuming that the engineers will become available if the price is right. Maybe today, but the boss himself will do me a favour (that’s what it’s called) and install a new set over the weekend.
But we are playing Germany on Sunday I say calmly. [ OK, not calmly. I shout wildly: BUT WE ARE PLAYING GERMANY ON SUNDAY!! ‘We have the match of the tournament on Sunday and you are going to get a bloody good price for a fancy set because you won’t have cheap sets in store will you?’ my defeated body language whispered.]
This is no joke
This is not an invented story. What will be, will be… [To be continued].