Ssssh don't tell anyone will you.
It started with a final, very brief microwave defrost of the meat for the evening meal. First, I punched holes in the cellophane wrap sealing the pack and placed it into the microwave oven. For the short time it was 'doing,' I concentrated on preparing vegetables, chopping onions, some ginger root and breaking up a bit of star anise. My little burst of aroma at this point did not smell the same as usual. Anise does not smell like paraffin fumes. Surely, hubby was not, at this time of the evening, still messing about with primus stoves! I carried on with my preparations.
The microwave cheeped to let me know it had completed the set task. I moved to get something from a cupboard and I saw a flash of orange bright. It was then I turned to study the microwave and momentarily mesmerised, I stood and looked at a ........ flame. It was low and steady. I darted into action successfully rescuing the meat from the microwave (saving the microwave did not cross my mind till afterwards) and the pyrotechnic excitement, with 'a sleight of hand,' disappeared.
As if the pyrotechnics were not enough excitement, when tidying up after our meal, I dropped a heavy dish onto several other dishes. Next, when removing bits from the cooker to clean them, guess what, I dropped one of the metal saucepan stands on glass.
Amazingly, nothing broke.
That's it! It's time to get out of the kitchen before my luck runs out and I really do, do some damage.