Bog Up

My Dear Fellows and Princess Normal,

Is "bogging up" a thing in the UK? I've lived with a Kiwi so long I'm not sure where I heard the term first. 

Even if it is not, then it probably won't surprise you to know that it means to fashion a makeshift solution. Often involving old bottles of glue, sticky-tape, WD-40 and a heavy book.

For example. Picture it. I ordered a flat-pack couch from IKEA. Unfortunately, I forgot to order that they assemble it for us. Er Indoors was dubious. "Ring them and ask them if you can add it to the order."

I pooh-poohed her. I reminded her she was away the night before it was delivered and wouldn't be back until late the next afternoon. "I'll have it together by the time you arrive," I said, full of self-assurance and idiocy.

So when Er Indoors arrived home the next day (hungover) she found me in the midst of pieces of flat-pack couch. She might have said some words. I'll let you fill in the blanks yourself.

Still, we pulled together and followed the instructions. With two of us it wasn't so bad. After 20 minutes we had the two halves of the couch finished.

"We've nearly finished and with only eight sh*ts, three f*cks and a c*ck!" I said proudly.

But I spoke too soon. 

Those two halves would NOT go together. You were supposed to fit two different knobs into two different holes at the same time and then SLOT them together. Getting the two knobs into position was hard enough. But they refused to SLOT. It seemed one knob was too BIG for one hole.

We tried everything. Deconstruction. Reconstruction. Hitting it. Hammering it. Banging it. Swearing at it and finally jumping up and down on it WHILE swearing.

"While you JUST GET IN THERE you effing see!!!"
"God effing dammit why won't this EFFING THING go in??"
"It won't fit! It won't fit! You MOTHEREFFING BEE!!"

Goodness knows what our neighbours thought we were up to.

"Why don't we just bog it together with string?" I suggested, exhausted.

"We have just paid FIVE HUNDRED POUNDS on a couch, we are not 'bogging it together'," replied Er Indoors.

Another hour and some FEARFUL language later, Er Indoors's spirit was broken and the ball of string was employed.

"See? It works fine! See??" I said. Then I shut up. I know THAT LOOK when I see it.

The couch remained bogged until we left Edinburgh in September.

So the bog-up has a long and proud tradition. My favourite bog-up story is one I heard on the radio of a a Kiwi dad who had bogged up a big dent in his car bodywork with melted Yoplait cartons. 

Here in today's picture you see Er Indoors's latest handiwork. Late last night our tap started shooting out water from around the base of the handle. I looked for a stopcock but suspected it was outside. 

I know that makes me sound lazy. And I am, but also bear in mind that I was in bed and naked when we found out about all this. The tap was by now gushing. Er Indoors leaned down heavily on the handle and it stopped.

"I can't stay like THIS all night," she said. Unreasonable. 

I fell back on my old trusted solutions and wondered if we should deploy the string. But Er Indoors found our packing tape and used that instead to hold the tap down. Water was still leaking though. I tried a towel around the back but it was soon soaked. 

"Leave it to me," said Er Indoors. When I awoke this morning, I found she had fashioned this magnificent baffle out of foil, and Jasper had discovered a new drinking fountain.

Now it is 6.30pm. The plumber has been and gone and replaced the entire tap, which was entirely corroded inside. Jasper has lost his drinking fountain and we are un-bogged finally.

But I'm keeping the string on standby. You never know. 

S.

p.s. I feel much better today and got the all-clear from Lovely Dentist. It was a fun visit though. I told them that it was a very mellow dental surgery and I'll be coming back to see them regularly.