Flashlights

I often maintain that his majesty and MacGyver were separated at birth or possibly even just closely related. I am in awe his majesty; at his ability to fashion some semblance of fire out of what appears to be garden detritus and how he can spirit up a walking stick out of a warped twig and a grotty old shoelace. He is also of the distinct mantra "be prepared" and as such ours is a home often kitted out to Armageddon-ish degrees.

Thus, we have often got a surplus of flashlights - or had before we moved. Torches. Call them what you will.

Now I am by no means unreasonable with his majesty's insistence at keeping these, I merely develop great irritation at the fact that they seldom if ever are in working condition. And they usually display the said broken down tendencies at stupid 'o'clock. When  you really, really, really need them to work.

The Mother-In-Law (hereafter referred to as the MIL) graced him a million candle power specimen for his birthday one year. I still argue what a townie like him would possibly need a million candle power torch for? But hey, what do I know. And whilst it was in working order (albeit brief) the local wildlife were subjected to nightly raids of their privacy. I am quite surprised we were not sued by some passing owl for retinal scarring and loss of condition due to starvation, a direct result of it's inability to hunt.

Or how about the G**E special he bought that never worked and he kept meaning to return and simply never did.

Or the lantern-like item we got for the power cuts of 2008 whose battery just died one night and has never been able to charge since. Yes, still got that one!

The list goes on. At the height of his collecting zenith his majesty had about 8. And only 1 was ever able to sputter out a barely visible flicker. I think I could've shoved a lightbulb into my belly button, clicked my heels 3 times and produced a far superior glow!

I am a practical person of form and function. If something breaks, fix it, replace it and if it beyond feasible correcting then for heavens bloody sakes CHUCK IT OUT. But nooooooooooooo. You see I married into a family of hoarders. The MIL's very own house is populated by mutilated figurines of hippos missing legs, carvings cracked and split out of years of moving, broken furniture, chipped ornaments and dented silverware. But you can't throw any of it away! Shock, horror! And my own family is just as bad. My father (now  partially cured, thank goodness) would replace appliances as they broke, but...he would keep the old one, you know, just in case he needed it say for I dunno, a reunion of old tedelex tv owners?!?! Wait for it. He still has the component HI-FI he bought in 1982 (?). I am doubtful as to which bits are still functional, but he's still got it.

Back to our flashlights. Post move we cleared out, reduced our possessions to a mere third of what we originally owned. Heartbreaking though it was for me, I think his majesty suffered most. You see he was forced to rid us of some of his beloved torches. Now, one would think the old, damaged, not working, never-going-to-find-a-new-battery-for-it, etc ones would go. Guess again. We are now left with a black ensemble that can either be used a free weight or doubles as a nightstick ( I swear you could kill someone with it if you tried) - this one does not work at present. Nor will it ever because it takes those HUGE round batteries that look like silos and cost a fortune. We are also left with a quaint green version of the black night stick. It too does not work as years ago the glass thingy above the bulb broke and after the little madam had at it recently, the bulb blew. This too will never be fixed as it has been relegated to his majesty's cupboard - a place I like to call "The-Place-Where-Broken-Things-Go-To-Die" so I don't figure seeing it anytime soon.

So I am now left to rely on my cellphone back light in the dead of night.

The flashlights now lie, broken, in the cupboard for our next move. No they will not be disposed of, they will not be repaired, they will simply become one of those annoying items that just moves with you wherever you go.