The sun is shining. The skies are blue and we are still without a kitchen sink. However, even as I type HWIOO has fitted the kitchen work surface, cut out the sink shape and is now drilling a hole in the side of the unit for the pipe work for the dishwasher which is arriving tomorrow afternoon. I told you that my cup flows over – actually my cups and mugs are currently sitting in the courtyard because I absolutely refuse to do any more washing up in the washbasin and I’m certainly not taking it around to the Number One Daughter who has more than enough washing up of her own.
HWIOO is glad of the sun. The cottage next to ours is a holiday cottage you see and this week it is occupied. Now I don’t know about you but the sound of manic diy drifting through open doors is not something I would like to hear very much during a relaxing week’s break – so our current view is that while the holiday makers are out enjoying the sun, partaking of ice creams and cream teas that we will make the noise we need to make and then do the quiet things when we hear them arrive back at base. So, in ten minutes time HWIOO will continue on the silent task of pva-ing and silicone sealing the sink cut so that it doesn’t ‘bleb’ up. Usually that would be my job but I’m steering well clear so that there can be no later accusations of shoddy workpersonship. Then there’s the small matter of plumbing everything up – actually I don’t think he’s going to be particularly trappist in his approach as something is bound to refuse to co-operate- but you never know.
Of course I won’t be able to use the sink until tomorrow to give everything a chance to seal properly and then I shall be told regularly not to let water stand around the sink as the surface is, after all, a giant piece of chip board which will soak up water and go horrible given half the chance. Is this my excuse never to do the washing up again? Possibly.
Hopefully tomorrow the remaining work surfaces will be attached to their units and I can have a happy couple of hours unpacking all my kitchen boxes. I have the feeling that the making the contents of the kitchen fit the kitchen game is going to be one that exercises my little grey cells. It has been pointed out to me that it will be an opportunity to sort out my utensils. You’ll be able to get rid of the junk that you don’t need.”
“But I need everything I packed. I sorted through the kitchen before we moved.”
“Even that chocolate spoon mould?” HWIOO pointed to one of the open boxes.
“Vital.” I didn’t like to tell him that a mould shaped like a frog and another one shaped like a mouse is about to join the spoon – I have some avid Harry Potter fans who would like chocolate mice and frogs. I have also spotted a chocolatier in the next village that offers courses on the gentle art of chocolate making. Let’s just say I feel the acquisition of a new skill approaching stealthily – in the autumn when my hair isn’t full of dust and paint.
“Well at least the nearest Lakeland is miles away.” He said doubtfully staring at the box containing the jam making kit, the cheese making accessories, baking trays in various shapes and sizes as well as all his paraphernalia for making bread.
I didn’t think it was a good time to tell him that they deliver nor that the cupboard he’s got earmarked as a giant ‘man drawer’ out in the courtyard I’ve already worked out can be fitted with plastic crates containing the overspill from the kitchen should the need arise.