Doorbell debacle

You know when you really want a job to be easy, like because you want to spend an hour or even ten minutes working on your novel.  Also because it’s your day off, your husband’s out working, so no demands for cups of tea every twenty minutes, and plenty of peace and tranquility to concentrate.  But of course the job becomes the biggest headache of all time, like on a level of  an exploding volcanic migraine level?  That was my Monday two weeks ago, the week before Christmas.

It all began on Sunday, due to our doorbell, which I might add only lasted about half a year, decided to ‘ghost’.  Meaning I jumped up three or four times to nobody being at the door, either that or the Invisible man needed a haircut??

This door-bell had given us a headache since we bought it.  BTW did anyone know how expensive such things cost?  It was about £30, for a wireless doorbell?? I’d be happy with an old-fashioned bell and a bit of string.  But anyway, the damned thing must have been cursed since we bought it as to begin with, we couldn’t get it to work straight away and itneeded a little bit of tweaking.  Don’t ask me how but we got it working, and despite the few times it conked out, it worked okay.


I tried to fix the issue, as it somehow managed to stay permanently ‘on’.  I did my troubleshooting online, watched a few YouTube videos, and was quite impressed with myself that I managed to unscrew the entire unit with a screwdriver and had a fiddle to no avail.  Briefly it did work, after with frustration I chucked it across the room and bashed it a few times.  But alas, my door bell had gone to the electrical insane asylum in the sky and we were left with a lonely chime.

Next began the online hunt for a replacement.  As the unit is a Byron, I figured we could just replace the bell part, and the company that happened to have the closest store, about a twenty-minute drive, was Screwfix.  They had a range of bells and chimes and some started as little as £3.99.  So, the next day,  I drove to Screwfix with the broken bell and chime in hand and the hope that someone there could save my day.

It turned out that the cheapy bells I’d seen were actually wired and the cheapest Byron doorbell I could buy was about £10.  So I opted for that one then spotted a poster on the side of the till advertising the full kit for £12.99.  Cogs of my old cash saving brain began spinning and I decided to buy the entire kit, just in case the solo bell wasn’t compatible.

The customer assistant, took my details, address and gave me some special card; went to ring up the product and discovered the system was showing it as being £17.99.  She called over her manager and they both frowned at the screen, then at the poster and realised the product was no longer on offer.  Bloody Brilliant!!  I did try to point out that as they advertised it they should give me the product for that price, but that didn’t work. So, back to Plan A, buy a £10 door bell.

I checked with the customer assistant that the item would be compatible and we decided that yes, it was a Byron, so should be fine, but of course I could return it if it wanted

Twenty minutes later I returned home, opened up the packaging and got the kit together. I followed the instructions to try to sync the two items and got nothing, diddly squat, silent as a grave.  The damned bell would have to go back.

I put the pack together, trying to keep it neat.  It came with a small silver circular battery which I accidentally dropped on the kitchen floor and didn’t notice where it went.  Thus began a hunt as, of course, it had vanished from site.

I’m hoping I’m not the only person who’s found that when you drop anything it vanishes into a specially formed black hole where all dropped items of a certain size go?  I couldn’t find it ANYWHERE!!!  I looked under the washing machine, the cooker, every nook and cranny I could.  My biggest fear was that it had rolled under the gap we have at one end of the kitchen between the floor and skirting.  Where it would never be seen again.


I spent a good twenty minutes, flat on my stomach, head to the floor and torch in hand, trying to spot a sliver of silver, tears rolling down my face.  Now I had a useless doorbell that cost me a £10,  and I’d have to waste another £20 buying a new one.  I’m pretty certain they don’t give out refunds for stupidity.

The Gods of sympathy must have decided to give me a break, as I decided to have one more search, specifically under the fridge, which logic told me it couldn’t have gone, as the fridge is on a raised floor, so how could it possibly end up there?? Oh, but there it was, sat in the dust-yes I know I need to give it a clean-sniggering in its shiny brilliance.

Another twenty minutes later, manic smile on my face and pony tail askew, I walked back into Screwfix to change my item.  A meltdown of Nuclear proportions was avoided as the new customer assistance was unsure for a second if they could refund me as the packaging was open.  I mean seriously!! How did they expect me to check the blasted thing in its unopen packet!!

Anyway, needless to say I bought a whole new doorbell with chime-this one with 4 tunes to choose-wow!!!- which so far seems to be working fine and I think might be of a better quality to the old one.  Fingers crossed!!  Because if it’s fails this task will for sure be delegated to my handy-man husband.

Featured Photo by Yung Chang on Unsplash

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