A post about a vacuum cleaner? You could be forgiven for thinking a number of things starting with, “What?”. Closely followed by, “Nurse, bring the tranquilliser gun” and a swift “Unfollow”. But in our family, Henry represents a Significant Event.
I would estimate that in the last three years, we have bought, and abandoned, at least three vacuum cleaners and I’m totally at a loss to account for their rubbish performance. True, we have pets, but then the equipment gets looked after, filters get changed/washed, bags/cylinders emptied. It’s nothing to do with kit price point. A Dyson also went the way of the others and followed its brethren down to Council’s recycling facility. So what’s going on? Have we just become the world’s dustiest family? Er, possibly. Moving quickly on.
Having despaired of ever finding a hoover capably of taking the strain of life with family DG, I suddenly remembered Henry.
When I was at university (not ‘uni’, thank you.), ‘Henrys‘ were standard issue in student accommodation. Bullet proof. Reliable. Indestructable. One student, of my acquaintance had an accident with a tin of baked beans. Well, it got left on top of an electric hob. Unopened. Until it exploded. Who stepped in to help clean up the mess? You’ve guessed it. Ate the lot. Baked beans, metal shards, tomato sauce. Sorted.
So, a big warm welcome to little, red H.
We need you.
[Photo courtesy of Wikipedia. Our Henry’s too shy to come out of the cupboard under the stairs and have his picture taken.]