Aga incubator



Ishbel from Kinross-shire is able to shed some light upon last week’s question about why Agas are so miraculous:

I grew up with an Aga. I realise that makes it sound like throughout my childhood it loved and fed me like a mother. This is accurate. There’s two hot plates and two ovens. Top oven is cooking central, bottom oven is cooler and heats plates, slow cooks meringues, dries kindling. You name it.

What you probably wouldn’t name is this next story. My friend’s grandpa was born at home, as was the wont of people a century ago. He was premature and seemed to be stillborn. The doctor had to tend to his dying mother and gave the dead baby to his granny to dispose of. She was ever the Victorian optimist and fed the baby brandy, wrapped him in cloths and put him in the bottom oven of their Aga, WITH THE DOOR CLOSED and looked after him there for A WEEK. When the doctor returned to check on the mother, the granny showed him the surviving baby in the oven and the doctor fainted. Said baby went on to live to nearly one hundred years old.

I believe that the young Australian lady will agree that this story quashes any reservations that she had about how boring Agas are. Maybe now she can ask her friends if they intend to use theirs to nurse back to life undead babies.

Gosh! Now I’d like to venture forth a new theory: that Jesus Christ was not laid to rest in the tomb of Joseph of Arimathea, but in the warming oven of an Aga. Of course the gospels changed ‘cast iron enamel door’ to a large stone, just to make it sound a bit more Biblical.


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