It’s taken nearly two years of dithering and delays.
However – eeehaa! – I’ve finally got much-needed work done in my kitchen. Not a full-scale, pull-oot, refit new one, lest my plastic cardies and bank manager go into meltdown. But new flooring, worktop and splashbacks – especially badly needed since my dangerously daft performance a couple of years ago.
Chatting outside to a passing mate, forgot all about sausage rolls in oven. By the time the smoke alarm kicked in, the worktop above the oven was a goner. Since then, I’ve had two joiners lined up for the work, but both ended up no-shows. The sods. Why didn’t they just tell me they were too busy for such a piddlin’ little jobbie?
At last, Jake the pinter suggested a gadgie and we were all-systems-go for last weekend. But first, the dreaded rake-oot of the cupboards.
Talk about Nightmare on Simpson’s Street
Gentle reader, when last did you venture into the darkest depths right at the back of yours? Too feart? Me too. But needs must.
Some o’ the stuff I unearthed from my kitchen cupboards I meant to chuck oot when I moved in 16 years ago
Spik aboot Nightmare On Simpson’s Street – some o’ the stuff I unearthed I’d meant to chuck oot when I moved in 16 years ago. Losh min, especially from that big corner unit where ye canna even see the back unless you down on yer hurdies and stick yer napper right in. Then it turns oot to be like a time warp tunnel.
A hillock of ancient vacuum flasks – remember the old tartan thingies? Mementoes of mony happy picnics donkeys ago. Why in the name of all that’s sleek and steely would I keep them?
A complete tea set of mum’s I remember she bought at a Baker’s sale, always kept for “best”, therefore never used and now so prehistoric it might be worth a bob or two on the Antiques Roadshow.
It's the end of the world as we know it pic.twitter.com/JIrK9OvB2q
— 70s Dinner Party (@70s_party) March 24, 2019
The funcy fish-shaped mould I aye used when I was a domestic dinner party goddess in the 1970s and my delish salmon mousse starter was aye a scene stealer. Sadly, like a golfer suffering “the yips”, I gave it up when I changed from powdered to sheeted gelatine and repeatedly humiliated masellie by serving by a fish of pink custard. Happy days.
Unearthing prehistoric use by dates
Then the horror discoveries from the abyss – but for pity’s sake dinna tell a soul. Those black affronting, prehistoric use by dates.
Jar wholegrain mustard (mercifully unopened), packet nuts and raisins (me on a health kick), sticky-as-stink orange and raspberry jellies in search of a trifle, extra hot curry powder I never dared, all circa 2017.
Bottle fish sauce and jar green Thai paste from my never-appreciated-by-the-family Asian period in 2018. Gads. Not to mention the kirn of baby food packages from way back in 20-flaming-15! Feel gype Nana.
Go on, folks, have a dig aboot and own up to your most ancient store cupboard mortification. The good news is, I love my revamped kitchen and I sweer I’ll try to keep on top of my use bys… And out of date pork will fly.
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