Spaghetti in a Kettle

Unfamiliarity breeds mistakes. This was brought home to me in my first week in my Budapest flat. I mean first of all I managed to cut my finger using the washing machine. Yep, the washing machine. If that wasn’t enough I stepped onto the balcony one windy evening and woosh, the door shuts behind me. And I see there’s no handle on the outside. A wave of panic descends. I try pushing on the door but it doesn’t give. The wave of panic again. No phone in my pocket. Another shove on the door and I realise it will take an almighty barge to break the door. Ok, that’s a reasonable thing to do… BREAK the door of my new flat. But it’s either that or shout helplessly in bad Hungarian to passers by. I could imagine the news on Kossuth Radio ‘Idiot Englishman stuck on balcony’. Well somehow I managed to eventually use keys in my pocket to flick open the door. I have no idea how I got that to work, but the wave of relief as I heard that gentle click and stepped inside was as palpable as the panic had been moments earlier. The final oddity I should mention happened after deciding to cook spaghetti. I selected a small pan I found in the flat. I put it on the gas ring to boil. However much this little pan heated up, it didn’t seem to go above warm despite the full gas flames. I waited. It must have been an hour that passed, and still just a bit warm. Did NASA know about this pan that withstands all heat? What the hell is it for? Desperately hungry and unwilling to try another pan in case it was made of a similar heat-proof material, I cooked the spaghetti in the kettle. I knew that at least boiled as I had boiled water for tea in it. And it worked, and as I poured the water out, the spaghetti slithered out of the spout pleasingly. And the thought struck me.. the spaghetti kettle! Had I just inadvertently invented something new and that was going to revolutionise the market like a cooking version of the iPad? No.