It’s not what you say, it’s how you say it.
To me this post written by Michael Kretzmer from Bulawayo, evokes the warmest feelings about days of long ago!
This week I serviced our Aga. I realise this small revelation into the domestic affairs Chez Kretzmer and the very mention of the word Aga might not immediately have won me friends and the words ‘wot a tosser!’ and ‘let’s torch him!’ may have escaped a few lips but let me tell you the Kretzmer Aga is nothing like the Agas you read about in the mags, see in the movies or yearn for in your secret dreams, losers. Ours is one of those ancient ones, a cast iron, unmovable prehistoric monstrosity that essentially props up the eastern side of the house and from September to April every year dominates my life.
Our Aga burns anthracite coal and was built for the days when servants were cheap and very cheerful. To keep Aga running, every day I have to pad across the slippery yard to the dirty coal shed, fill a large bucket by driving it into the coal pile three or four times, schlep across the slippery yard back into the kitchen - it’s heavy, about 20kg - then put it down next to Aga and get the tool to remove Aga’s central furnace iron plug. I then have to extricate the white hot seal, put it down carefully, then lift the coal bucket and pour some anthracite coals through the hole right into the glowing furnace. Then have to peek inside to ensure its burning at the requisite billion degrees without losing my eyebrows before replacing the heavy iron seal. Then I get on my knees, prise open the lower furnace door with another tool, hook it under the circular coal grate and riddle (yes, there even a stupid word for it) it so the ashes drop into the ashcan tray. This I do twice a day and on every third day I have to remove the tray which is full of red hot ash and transfer it back out the door, across the slippery yard to the ash pile which itself has to be carted off every three weeks or so.
In defence of Aga, I gotta point out that she has kept me fit for six winters now and that a large slab of hot, beautifully crafted metal, in and upon which you can cook, warm and dry anything, which fills the rattling old house with a spine of warmth for about a quid a day and which my late dog Jock, the greatest Staffie ever to have lived, voted the Greatest Place of Earth for a Staffie to Crash Out By is not all bad either.
Who wants an Aga?
Responses
“John H Abeles
One never forgets certain smells
I remember ours in Inyati where I spent my first few years... It was a huge, heavy range, with multiple interesting , spring enhanced doors for coal or wood, for ovens, for ash collectors ..
Not infrequently I came too close and felt the searing heat coming from it ..
We also, like you, used it to cook, to heat the house ( with a thatched roof), heat the house water, and dry the clothes ( when cold or raining outside)
Lord knows how much fine, imperceptible soot I inhaled into my young lungs - but the crackling sounds, the aroma and the sight of Ma Phipps - she was fostering me when my mother was in hospital - hovering over it with mealie paap on the boil, eggs frying, and (don’t spread this around) bacon in the pan, are sharp memories that have not been expunged in the slightest”
Julie Duik - You had me at "this week I serviced our Aga". Not a skill you learned at Carmel or Milton
Joe Krige This photo of your Aga exudes homeliness and deserves the multitude of calories you expend keeping its calorie requirements in check.
Rossalind Gower
Oh I grew up with one and loved coming home on a cold winters day to warm my hands and bottom on it while waiting for the kettle to boil for tea on one of the hot plates and warming a scone in the oven. So worth the schlepping out for coal and riddling the ashes every day.
Crystal May Darrot
What a Beauty! 😍😍Living in Henley 15 years ago I could do anything with it, Bake, stews, roasting, hot water for bath's an keeping the house warm.an loved the smell when making the fire, very Homely enjoy your Aga 💞💞💞💞
Gail Loon Lustig -
Your use of "monstrosity" gives your roots away. A word used in our house growing up which drew immediate attention specially as it was said with a conviction you couldn't ignore...
The warmth down your way enviable
Me
- I love everything about this ode to Aga by Michael Kretzmer son of Dr Chaim and Yoggie - bro of Andrea