I killed our microwave today. Or rather, I switched it on with nothing inside, and there was a flash of light, a loud pop, and the thing didn’t work any more. It had been in the family for a long time; I wrestled it up the stairs into our flat in Hong Kong in 2011, and it survived the trip to Singapore and moving from the middle of Chinatown into our current flat. But now it’s dead, and so I’m consigning its beige plastic corpse to the junkyard.
Thankfully, we can still heat up food using either electrically heated elements, flames of gas or the eldritch powers of radiation because my wife got right on to Carousell and tracked down a Panasonic microwave (nearly new) going for only $60. Funnily enough, the people selling it are on their way to Hong Kong, and are either travelling really light, or don’t realise that electrical appliances in Singapore are completely compatible with the electrical infrastructure in Hong Kong. Still, we get a microwave with a digital display out of this, and as long as it lasts at least 5 years I’ll be very happy.
(The other thing we acquired at the same time as the outgoing microwave was a set of Ikea shelves, which are currently in the bomb shelter, groaning under the weight of various tupperware boxes full of junk. Ah, good and faithful servant.)
We also saw Rogue One today, which as Star Wars films go is much better than the last one (which was basically Star Wars: A New Hope Redux) and also quite good in and of itself. But I need to ruminate on this before saying any more about it. Well, apart from observing that Director Krennic is strangely reminiscient of Nigel Farage.