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desperanceHee. I hoovered up a cork. (There are lots of corks on the floor of my dining-room. This is not so much an expression of bibulous slovenliness, as it is "ooh! cork!" *biffs* - and how can I take his toys away from him?)(Sometimes I do think he has enough toys, but that's another matter...)
Anyway: turns out a cork is the exact right width to clog a vacuum nozzle, just at the bit where it stops being a flexible hose and becomes a stiff tube, turning itself at an angle to make a convenient handle to work it by. Viz, at the most ultimately inconvenient place for dislodging something that is very firmly stuck (it hath a powerful suck, I deem).
Fortunately, I can haz brainz today. I took the whole hose out into the garden and thrust it onto the outside tap, which is of a force incalculable. Pop! Out came the cork, followed by a veritable fountain. So I have even washed the interior of my vacuum today.
And now I have stopped. I have opened a bottle of wine ("ooh! cork!" *biffs*) and am going to sit and do nothing for half an hour, while I listen to Clue on R4. Humph may be gone, but we've got, what, thirty years of archive? Thirty-five? Verily we are blessed.
And then I'll scuttle out of the house and down to the bus station to meet houseguests. Eek. *is not ready*
Anyway: turns out a cork is the exact right width to clog a vacuum nozzle, just at the bit where it stops being a flexible hose and becomes a stiff tube, turning itself at an angle to make a convenient handle to work it by. Viz, at the most ultimately inconvenient place for dislodging something that is very firmly stuck (it hath a powerful suck, I deem).
Fortunately, I can haz brainz today. I took the whole hose out into the garden and thrust it onto the outside tap, which is of a force incalculable. Pop! Out came the cork, followed by a veritable fountain. So I have even washed the interior of my vacuum today.
And now I have stopped. I have opened a bottle of wine ("ooh! cork!" *biffs*) and am going to sit and do nothing for half an hour, while I listen to Clue on R4. Humph may be gone, but we've got, what, thirty years of archive? Thirty-five? Verily we are blessed.
And then I'll scuttle out of the house and down to the bus station to meet houseguests. Eek. *is not ready*