The problems with our oven — the Ariston built-in model that I dubbed Ari (pronounced to rhyme with scary) — were well documented in Radio Free Daglan this week, in postings on Monday and Tuesday.
By now, my wife Jan and I were prepared to settle in for a good long wait, until the necessary replacement control could arrive. I figured it would be shipped from China, through the Panama Canal and then offloaded in Bordeaux, where it would travel by truck for three days in the wrong direction, before it finally wound up in the hands of J.P., our appliance repairman, sometime this autumn. But lo and behold — J.P. phoned this morning to say he had the part and would arrive at our home this afternoon (Thursday). Huzzah!
Since the oven is built in, J.P. first had to unscrew it, so that he could pull it out and place it onto his handy wooden cart with wheels, like this:
Once the oven was out onto the kitchen floor, J.P. removed the sheet metal covering on its top, so he could get into Ari’s inner workings. It looked like this:
With the cover off the top of the oven, J.P. could make his way to the electronic controls, confirm what was wrong, and install a replacement part. The defective part — the one that was telling Ari to turn itself on and off at will — is the smallish brown part just to the right of the large green panel in the centre of this photo:
Once the new part was in place, J.P. simply had to screw on the cover again, tighten up everything, and return Ari to its rightful place (aided manfully, I have to say, by me). Here’s the oven, just about ready to go:
Then it was just a matter of J.P. setting the time, checking the controls, and preparing his invoice. Here’s the new, happy face of Ari:
When all the work was done, we had a good old chat with J.P., and gave him a cheque for 125 euros. That seemed reasonable enough, although I still think I could be getting some offsetting income from Stephen King one day. After all, the idea of a scary oven with a mind of its own has some serious potential.