We bought a dear little woodburning stove today.
Here it is in the improbable setting of a woodland glade.
(I think the dog is like the sprig of parsley
pictured on a plate with some fish fingers
as a 'serving suggestion' only.)
It was a bit cheaper if we took it away ourselves.
The kind men loaded it into our boot.
Trouble is, when we got home
we couldn't lift it out,
so now we are obliged to drive it wherever we go.
Our predicament has all the hallmarks
of one of those salutary fairy tales
with a hefty moral at the end -
there's no fuel like an old fuel?
I suspect we will have to pay someone brawny
about the same amount as the discount
to heave it out for us.