New space age kitchen already causing friction in the family

The kitchen is complete. Well, nearly. We still have to paint and there’s the tricky matter of what goes where. This is causing minor points of friction between those in the family who use the kitchen as a place to actually cook, and the one person who really just gets allowed in to eat food and source gin. That would be me.

The cupboards are being replenished and restocked, and logical planning is being applied to allocating places for mugs, pans and tins. The day we moved in, we basically flung food, crockery and cutlery into drawers and onto shelves, and that’s basically where they stayed for over a decade. Now we are optimising the space for efficient flow in food production. Apparently.

This means I can’t find anything. I’ve spent the last few days plaintively whirling about opening cupboard doors like a deranged contestant on Deal or No Deal.

I did find a jar of Marmite I’d forgotten about. It’s a tiny little baby one, and I used to call it my "Travelling Marmite”. Pretty chuffed I was to uncover that. The use-by date was a couple of years ago, but we're talking Marmite here. Tasted just fine. Bit lumpy.

William Shatner as Captain Kirk in the series which premiered in 1966

We have proper meals again, as the Yorkshire husband plays with his new toy, chief of which is The Induction Hob. It’s a black shiny rectangle and it mysteriously heats up pots. It looks like the sort of thing James T Kirk would have in his cabin to whip up a light supper for himself and Spock after a hard day blowing up aliens. No, I have no idea how it works.

As far as I am concerned, food needs flame. I remember my mum reaching for the box of Bluebell matches to light the oven. She’d set the gas going, strike a match, then literally crawl in to ignite the burners at the back.

Yes, longer matches were available for household use, but they were for those who had ideas above their station and probably owned fondue sets. Wee short matches were the way to go. Yes, food needed light, heat and danger in my youth.

The sheer joy of a functioning washing machine cannot be underestimated. We cannot recommend the laundrette at the bottom of Ferry Road highly enough, but the notion of someone handling my smalls was a bit too much.

Handwashing was my only option, but I just never thought that got my knickers clean. I was literally considering going completely “heritage laundry” and taking a big flat stone down to the Water of Leith to give my gussets a right good pounding, but the machine was re-connected just in time.

Everything is hidden. The fridge lurks behind a wooden door. What will become of the fridge magnets? The old fridge door was a veritable map of Britain.

Even when it sat out in the rain, waiting for the council to take it away, I still saw Cornwall For Surfers on the side. But not for very long. The old fridge vanished. As did the old hob, dishwasher, oven and extractor hood. No idea what happened to it all. Even more amazingly, it all disappeared whilst we, including our cheery kitchen fitter, were in the house. Just like magic. Looks like the Tooth Fairy has upscaled pretty dramatically.

New space age kitchen already causing friction in the family - Susan Morrison