Having a kitchen, mostly.
On Thursday, I was looking forward to spending the first half term I’ve had in over a year with no accidents, car break-downs, family illnesses or personal health problems hanging heavy over my head. The first in over a year. Working full time in a school means that holidays are my one time to do everything from dental appointments to DIY – and, with most weekends busy with marking and planning, much needed family time. I was feeling slightly desperate, to be honest, and what was keeping me going was the idea of a very, very straightforward half term where I could get some deep cleaning and batch cooking done and remind my daughter of what I actually look like.
Then I got a text message: “The kitchen has just fallen on me. I am a bit hurt.”
Just slightly concerning and alarming. Once I’d rung back and clarified His Lordship was indeed “a bit” hurt, not “a lot” hurt (remember this is the guy who tapes up split ears and once walked around for five days on a broken foot), I asked for a photo. It seems that the Tesco kitchen (don’t try googling – they stopped doing them in 2014 and the phone number on the guarantee goes nowhere) had a small crack somewhere in the back of the unit. Over the years, the wear and tear of everyday use caused it to grow to a size where the back split, the units buckled and (to quote Himself) “I shut the door of the mug cupboard … there was a sort of tick, tick, tick crack, it leaned to the side suddenly and then span around itself on to me”. Well. That was that.
I’ve just stopped panicking about what if it had been me and Childe in there instead. Now, on Sunday.
But, though we are gladly safe and un-squished, it rather leaves us in a bind with regards to half term: bar medical appointments and a playdate I’ve had to cut back rather on plans. The only consolation is the wall is completely sound, so a fresh coat of paint and some shelves (I am now anti-overhead-cabinet) should be pretty quick to organised. But as for activities: instead of box sets, I’m hitting up Pinterest, instead of soft play, it’s Ikea, and instead of batch cooking it’s pasta or toasties.
What has been a surprise is how much I like less storage in my tiny kitchen. You’re not meant to say that really – everyone knows storage is life. But, even with our (few surviving) plates and mugs out on the side, after the mammoth broken china and glass clean up, I’ve decided I might go for shelves and crates or baskets. And not just because of the fear factor.
I’m sure Childe will enjoy the Daim cake at Ikea and the Dime cake at Dunelm equally over the next week…
If you are on Pinterest and enjoy staring at shelves like I do, please follow my boards. There are also fashion, beauty and other non-shelf-related pins, I promise!