No kitchen, no shower room, no living room

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Last view of the old kitchen with disassembled bits of the new kitchen in the foreground

Last view of the old kitchen with disassembled bits of the new kitchen in the foreground

I realised that if we didn’t let our contractor C. get going things would continue to drift. Weekend after weekend we’d find new excuses as to why searching for ovens, sinks, shower heads and the like could wait until the next weekend. Finally on Tuesday I gave the go ahead and he and a mate came in to rip out the kitchen.

When I moved into this place just over ten years ago the thing I first fell in love with was the kitchen, but imperceptably over the years and with no apparent intervention from anyone it’s become a fixer-upper, complete with wildlife and a variety of frankly non kitchen-like odours seaping in from heaven knows where. By Tuesday evening we had no kitchen, but some idea of where the smells and wildlife came from.

Not that I haven't lived in worse places as a student ...

Not that I haven’t lived in worse places as a student …

I’d always imagined that it would be quite a traumatic experience, but as it happened we were so behind in the taking-STUFF-to-storage project that I was literally emptying out the kitchen units as they were prising them off the walls, so I didn’t have time to think about it. In the photo it doesn’t look so bad, but in real life it looks like he result of one of those “precision” strikes you get shown video of whenever some invasion or other is being justified. It was, however, rather traumatic for our cat Smirkle, not least because we had to move her food and water bowls into the bathroom.

Nice in Paris, but has no place in a house

Nice in Paris, but has no place in a house

On Wednesday they came back and ripped out the shower/steam room. That was definitely not an emotive experience because it had been falling apart for about 5 years and reeked of rotting wood. The steamer itself was a great idea, but had been mounted on the wall with its array of pipes and cables in a manner that was apparently cool when the Pompidou Centre in Paris was built, but has no place in a home.

During the process they had to lift part of the floor to get to the stopcock and turn the water off for a few minutes. It was a couple of hours before we noticed that Smirkle was missing and we weren’t really sure where she was until we heard wild mewing noises from under our feet. You’ll be relieved to hear that I lifted the floor again and Smirkle lept out.

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