Family curse

My family is cursed. At least that is what my parents think. They laugh and joke about the family curse all the time. Anytime my parents spend more than $100 dollars on something it is bound to go wrong.

I cannot count the number of times they have had the wrong furniture delivered, or parts missing, or delivered faulty.

The best story is the BBQ. It must be twenty years ago, but is still spoken of in reverent tones in my parents' house. (Of course in Australia we say BBQ when Americans would say grill).

We were having a big party. Dad was going to cook all the meat on the BBQ/Grill outside. Mum and dad decided to get a nice big new BBQ for the occasion. We don't live in a big down, and headed to the only real place to go - BBQs Galore.

Sadly, there were not BBQs galore. They only had one of the big multiple burners that dad wanted, and it was the display model. Dad snapped it up for a tidy discount.

As the BBQ was already assembled, we could not fit it in our car. The shop agreed to deliver it for free. Our BBQ was the following day we were in a rush and were glad not to have to assemble it.

We waited at home for the delivery. We waited....and waited.

Hours later we received a call from the shop. The delivery truck had been in an accident and the BBQ was destroyed.

The store owner was apologetic and agreed to have one sent over from another town, the next morning. This would cut it very fine.

Of course when the replacement BBQ was delivered the following day, it was not assembled. Dad and my uncle spent the morning reading the indecipherable instructions and assembling the 4700 parts.

As the guests started to arrive the weather turned and a massive summer storm blew in. The party was hastily moved indoors, while mum and our neighbour hustled the meat into their kitchens to cook on the stove.

As we were moving everything indoors a massive lightening bolt struck a nearby power line and the power went out. We had masses of raw meat, no electricity, dozens of guests and the prospect of a salad bar party!

As a very last resort dad dragged the BBQ (which held together despite the 17 screws they left out) into the garage and proceeded to cook the food.

The BBQ triumphed in the end! They were some hard earned steaks, let me tell you!

I often wonder about the family curse. I changed my name when I got married, a decision not entirely unrelated to an attempted curse dodging.

So far, so good!



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