Thursday, 24th May 2001.
It started of as a fiendishly clever plan, and ended up a disaster.
We had a dinner party on Tuesday night (oh Ian you are so mature!) for six
people. Proceedings didn't finish until well after midnight, and there was no
chance of the mountain of dirty dishes getting done that night.
When I returned home from work on Wednesday, I decided to make a start on
the washing up before the soccer started on tv. Then Emma had an idea. Our
downstairs neighbour was away for a couple of weeks, and Emma had the key to her
flat. And said neighbour has a dishwasher!
It took us a few trips to move all the dirty dishes from our kitchen to the
dishwasher. We couldn't find any dishwasher powder, so at Emma's instruction I
grabbed our washing-up detergent from the kitchen. Emma sprayed a bit inside the
dishwasher, and eventually we set it going.
Later on Wednesday night Emma asked me if I had a torch. She needed to borrow it
to check on the dishwasher downstairs. Why? Because the lights in the kitchen
downstairs don't work.
Some time later Emma returned. "THERE WERE SUDS ALL OVER THE FLOOR!" Apparently
Emma had nearly fallen on her arse when she set foot in the kitchen. There was
a layer of suds fanning out from the front of the dishwasher. "I think I may have
overdone the washing-up liquid..."
We have run the rinse cycle several times since. This evening we both went down
there and scooped a mountain of suds out of the inside of the machine. After an
evening of rinse cycles and suds removal we gave up, and pulled all the plates and
cutlery etc out of the dishwasher, and had to wash them by hand. Bugger.