I hate my kitchen. There, I said it. I hate, hate, HATE it!
It’s actually not a bad size, especially considering the size of our house, but it couldn’t be laid out any worse if it tried. There’s very little workstop space that is usable (most of it being in the corners where my arms don’t reach, since I am not Mr Tickle) and the cupboards are odd too. There are only seven cupboards and four of them are half sized. Two of them are corner cupboards – one wall mounted so, although I can reach all around the corner becauseit has two doors, the top shelf is impossible to reach because I am not Mr Tall. The other is a floor level so I can reach both shelves, but it only has one door, so I can’t reach the full orner space. See? It’s rubbish. When you open a cupboard door, you might well find some herbs jumping out at you, but you won’t find any of those nice gadgety thing that make kitchen cupboards usable.
And it’s dark. The window isn’t big enough really, but I can live with that. But the cupboards are dark wood and absorb all the light and there’s no undercupboard lighting, so if you use the one bit of accessible worktop, you block all the light from the main ceiling light and can’t see what you’re doing. Rubbish.
Stonelaughter and I have finally decided that a new kitchen is a priority. Wooohooo. I get to have most say apparently, since I do all the cooking. I need restraining. I also need to remember that agreeing we need a new kitchen is not the same as agreeing to a full-width, two storey extension and I should probably not put the architect and builders on speed dial. Yet.
And here comes the hard bit. I have no idea what I want in a kitchen, except that I basically want a Magnet advert in my house. I want to hand someone a rolling pin and a cast iron crock pot and say “design my perfect kitchen”. And I want it to be light. But not white. And I want those magicky things that transform a cupboard into a tardis. And I want a Belfast sink. And change from five grand.