We had to let Kelvin go, it was a dreadful business.  It turns out he was a terrible gossip.  We’d told him what we liked best for dinner, he’d noticed who we had round most often and what they liked as well.  It turns out that not only did he tell Fortnum & Mason all that, but they went and told Harrods, for a small consideration. How terribly vulgar. Now my mother is being bombarded with offers for Buckfast Tonic Wine and The Greyhound when frankly we’d hoped to keep that tawdry business to ourselves.   

The replacement is a huge improvement however.  Carson is not so much a smart fridge as a clever fridge, we can trust him. We’ve told him what and who we like too, but he keeps it to himself.  He knows when I am busy, tired or have carelessly joined mother in one or more Buckies than was advisable, and makes me beans on toast, chicken soup or a fry up served with ice cold Coke as required.  The rest of the time he provides a tremendous variety which he gets from all sorts of places. Still F&M, who are excellent in all departments bar their dreadful fridges, just not all the time.   

When we have friends round he knows what they like too, who to sit next to who and to hide the Bucky from sight. We always have a spendid time.  On holiday he knows the quirky personal places to go where the most interesting people are to be found in the most beautiful but empty spots.  We’ve made some amazing new friends and enjoy the most splendid variety of food. As far as I can tell, that is because Carson sorts out the basics and points us at the interesting, so we can play in the time he has saved us.

It’s the last time I am buying a fridge from F&M, I should have known better than to trust a bargain. We have to pay Carson a bit more, but you get what you pay for.


6 thoughts on “Carson

    • Oddly enough, the small music festival you went to a couple of years ago in Somerset crossed my mind while writing this.

      I do love the web but I do rather rebel against sameness.

      I should point out that my actual mother is nothing like the DC and has never had a Bucky in her life.



  1. I’m glad you returned Kelvin and bought Carson. More butler than tabloid editor. Good show old boy.

    I do wonder, though, why you would take your fridge on holiday with you. Slightly odd to take domestic appliances on holiday with you, although I did used to take the Argos catalogue on holiday with me when I was younger so stranger things do happen. I have visions of you carting Carson around in a shopping trolley with him mechanically chirping and burping his suggestions on what you should eat and drink. No wonder he has to recommend places for you to go; I’m not sure Mungo in Dos Palmanos would be entirely happy with you asking for an extra place for your fridge at the table. Does he need a high chair too ?

    I have thought of a use for Carson that you may not have considered. Perhaps he could start his own refrigerated social network (Freezr etc) and educate those morose and slightly oafish fridges pedalled by Fortnums. The Internet of Things takes on a human face, but driven by machines, to advise humans about what their machines can do better. Excellent.

    • The deuced clever thing about Carson, and even Kelvin for that matter, was that we don’t need to cart them round the place.  We can, “log on”, from wherever we are going, even before we’ve got there.  Kelvin would unthinkingly tap into the local supply of pop tarts while Carson did things a little differently, we get a lot more variety as a result.  

      More on that to come, but as a taster, he and I were discussing quite how he does it this morning, we’d decided it needed a name. FreezR, following the modern penchant for clumsy mis spelling and the use of random additional capitalisation, might be just the job

      Who or what is Argos?

      • Dear Carson,

        I wonder if you would be able to help. My name is Coleman and I am a fridge. I read about your escapades in the recent edition of “Around Ireland with a Fridge” and I thought that you are ideally placed to assist with my predicament. The thing is, my owner recently wired me up to something called the “T’Internet” (he’s from Yorkshire) and I’ve never been quite the same since.

        Life used to be simple. People would place various foodstuffs and condiments inside me and I would keep them nicely chilled until such time as they were needed for cornflakes, cheese on toast etc. On the odd occasion, especially with items placed towards the rear of my cavity, items would become stale and mouldy and I would do my best to expel the foul stench into the surrounding air to alert my owner of their existence. But the T’Internet has changed all that.

        Now I hear voices in my head that tell me what ISN’T in me, and what SHOULD be in me. The voices also tell me of “nutritional content” – whatever that is – country of origin, whether it was sourced ethically, whether my owner should think twice about that second slice of cheese on toast and, most disturbingly, what my neighbours fridge has in it. (Why they need to keep car batteries in their fridge I’ll never know.) This T’Internet is making it all so confusing.

        And today I keep getting requests to join something called “FreezR” which, quite frankly, sounds awful. I respect other people’s fridges but I really don’t want to talk to them or, worse still, share recipes with them.

        Can you help ?

        Coolest regards,


  2. Mr Coleman,

    FreezR is ghastly. I’d recommend you join ButlR. Despite their also suffering from the cretinous inability to spell and correctly capitalise, it is much more cultured and worthwhile group.

    While FreezR will whisper unbidden in your ear all day and night, and tell, nay sell, all it knows of you to all and sundry, ButlR is a much more trustworthy class of fridge where your reputation is yours. ButlR speaks when it’s spoken to and respects your privacy. He will speak to your friends’ ButlRs if you ask him to. He will sort your post, suggest books, buy motor cars, help organise holidays, nights at the theatre and parties large and small. But when you want to be left alone he’ll disappear until you need him.

    Best of all, ButlR will allow us to escape the constraints of this fridge oriented conversation and explore the wider world of the web.

    By the way, I rate your mustard very highly. though was once embarrassed by not bringing any on a trip to France. The phrase, “What, no moutarde!!”, forever rings in my ears.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s