The gremlins are back ... if they ever left, which I seriously doubt. Back where? Back here, of course, in my house.

Last week I told you about the curse of inanimate objects - freezers, computers, lavatories - that always break down at weekends or on public holidays.

I reckoned that they were possessed by malevolent spirits. Now I'm sure of it.

On Sunday, just before lunch, I was gazing out of the kitchen window watching the grass grow in the back garden (well, what else is there to do on Sundays?) when my tranquillity was shattered by a large BANG!!!

At first I thought some teenage chump had lobbed a firework over the wall until I realised there was a burning plastic smell.

An electric socket, rarely used, in the corner of the kitchen was actually smouldering.

The cover had been blown clean away and little pieces of burnt plastic littered the worktop, while the surrounding white tiles were covered by a black film.

For some reason I felt it necessary to call The Mother, who was happily tucked up somewhere inside the Sunday papers.

"Come and have a look at this," I said, which probably gave her the impression that I'd cooked something special for lunch.

"Oh, dear," she said when she saw the socket. "What have you done now?"

Before I could defend myself she started talking, quite knowledgeably, about fuse boxes and circuits.

"I'd be very surprised if anything's working in the kitchen now," she said. "You check the fridge and freezer and I'll check the fuse box."

No fuses had blown but, as predicted, nothing was working in the kitchen.

Fear not, I thought, The Mother is in leadership mode and does seem to know what she's doing. More, I will admit, than could be said for me.

"An electrician is what we need," she said. "And I know just the man. He's a lovely chap and as this is an emergency I'm sure he'd pop round on a Sunday."

He wasn't in so she left a message on his mobile.

"Well, what we'll have to do now is move the fridge and the freezer into the living room and find some spare sockets, otherwise all our frozen food is going to defrost," she said.

"Wouldn't it be easier just to eat it?" I asked hopefully but she already had the freezer in a bear hug and was attempting to move it.

"Stop!" I said. "Let's take all the food out first otherwise it will be hernias all round for Christmas."

It's amazing the food you buy and then forget. There were a couple of trout that looked faintly familiar, some sinister looking mince which could have been beef, lamb or bat and half a cherry cheesecake.

"I don't know what happened to the other half - I certainly don't remember eating it," I told The Mother.

"Well, don't look at me. I definitely didn't - I don't like sweet things," she said, looking suitably sour-faced. "Must be the gremlins then," I muttered.

About an hour later we had dragged everything into the living room. The table lamps had vacated their sockets and all around us there was the hum of freezer and fridge motors.

The electric kettle was plugged in next to the answerphone and the microwave was cosying up to the television.

Then the phone rang. The Mother answered it and started making appreciative noises. "That was the electrician - he'll be round in half an hour," she said cheerily.

"Good," I said. "Tell him to bring an exorcist."