A suspicious smell has been emanating from the back of the pantry. It’s been driving me mad. I’ve been through everything on the shelves, searched the fridge, given it all a good airing, but still, there it lingered. This morning, as the unseasonably warm weather continued to soar, there it was again. Right, I thought. There’s only one thing for it. (Cue me trying to wrestle the fridge out of the pantry in a heatwave.)
Saints alive. I have just had to deal with the most disgusting discovery known to mankind. Trust me: you don’t want to know what was under there. I also discovered that fridges have a little plastic box on the back into which the tiny little hole above the salad tray drains into. Put it this way – had I known it was there, I would have known to empty and clean it every now and then. I am deeply traumatized.
Two hours later, the vile aroma has gone, but my kitchen looks like a hurricane just passed though. I can’t face trying to drag the fridge back into position and I think I may have to open an emergency bottle of prosecco.