On The Turn

“This coffee’s on the turn!” exclaimed Mrs Fox, plonking the large mug down on her bedside table with disdain.

“On the turn? What do you mean?” enquired Mr Fox, looking up from his newly minted copy of Elektor magazine, thoughts of thermistors and switch mode micro-power supplies fleeing from his brain like scudding clouds before a cold front.

“It’s gone cold. Well, not hot. Kind of lukewarm. Like coffee that’s well, not hot enough to enjoy any more. Maybe I should have a thermos flask of coffee instead of a cup? Then it would be always hot. Angelina does that. She’s wise, with the ways of tea.”

Mr Fox considered this. It sounded like just the sort of Engineering Challenge that he should rise to. Thermos flask? What was this, the 1950s? Surely there was a more modern approach to the problem. He set the magazine aside and scratched his foxy ears, all the better to help his brain engage in Engineering Mode.

The next morning dawned at Foxes’ Retreat as it usually did, with the woodpigeons cooing and the house sparrows chattering and the gentle murmuring of fox-wake, coffee making and porridge microwave tinging. This acoustic domestic duvet was slightly jarred with Mrs Fox’s shriek. “What on earth is that?!”

Mr Fox stood proudly by the invention adorning the breakfast table. Mrs Fox’s usual red coffee mug was almost invisible under a plethoric birds’ nest of wires and pipes, heating coils, waveguides and a tiny magnetron, with a small circuit board hot-glued onto the side of the mug with bright blue LEDs blinking. The whole mechanism appeared to be connected to a solar panel the size of a tea tray which was propped up next to it with a wooden cooking spoon. “It’s Mr Fox’s patent coffee Anti-Turn machine!”

The Anti-Turn machine took that moment to bring the cup to the boil, sending scalding coffee spilling over the edge and into the circuit board, whose LEDs turned red, before extinguishing with an audible pop and a small puff of smoke. The entire machine made a noise like a steam engine shutting down, and the solar panel fell off the precarious spoon and dented the kitchen table.

Mrs Fox gingerly took the mug from within its heating coil, using a cloth to prevent her paws being singed.

“I think, if its all the same to you, Mr Fox, I’ll just rely on a thermos flask.”