I am writing this as I am waiting for pasta to cook for tea. The kitchen feels like the wreck of the Hesperus, with four sets of dog paw prints across the lino, a newly thrown pile of cat sick on the table and the faint whiff of canine farts (they all have just had some extra strong worming tablets this morning), billowing around the room. I have always had a bit of a fantasy about my kitchen. Avidly reading Period Homes and Country Living, I dream of having a free standing bespoke kitchen, with country fabrics,aga, 1930's kitchenalia collections a
nd the obligatory loaf of bread and vase of flowers on the kitchen table.Oh yes add to this a vintage fridge and enamel saucepan collection-just to set the whole thing offOur present kitchen does have a flavour of this fantasy, but just a hint ! I would have to admit that no way would any self respecting editor of Country Living, photograph a Trelawnyd "rural" kitchen and place it on page 2. The dog baskets are grubby, and even though I clean the floor twice a day, it remains an odd grey colour for most of the time. Trays of chitting potatoes lie around next to the incubator which is filled with duck and TWO goose eggs and piled next to that is all my seed packages, heaped high in an old pie dish.. Dust fro
m the coal fire covers most of the untidy crockery and tins of cat food sit next to daffs in cheap vases on the window ledges. Not a show kitchen that is for sure, but a working one. The fantasy is a nice thought but I guess at least the existing kitchen works for 2 
blokes, 4 dogs and a senile old cat
m the coal fire covers most of the untidy crockery and tins of cat food sit next to daffs in cheap vases on the window ledges. Not a show kitchen that is for sure, but a working one. The fantasy is a nice thought but I guess at least the existing kitchen works for 2 
blokes, 4 dogs and a senile old cat
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