Autumn Rose has been musing on the finer points of home furnishing in times past. She has a liking of all things 1940s and I can certainly see the appeal.
We currently have a kitchen problem. Our kitchen is horrid. The previous owners of the house hastily assembled a collection of second-hand units and cheap pine shelving to create a rickety, yet nearly functional space for the preparation of food. These units are built over the most ghastly vinyl floor covering imaginable (were it real wood it would be in Versailles or the Peterhof) and the whole ensemble is finished off with custard yellow walls and a "tasteful" blue flowery border. It is impossible for it to look clean. It has to go. As hubby so rightly points out, should we ever need to sell up, nobody in their right minds would want a kitchen like this.
My problem is I hate fitted kitchens. I dislike anything that looks designed to give the illusion of ease and luxury. I dislike veneer. I dislike gadgets. We have spent some hours looking at kitchens in various showrooms, yet nothing seems right for me. My parents even seemed ashamed of our current kitchen and have contributed large sums into a new kitchen fund for their troublesome daughter. In return I seem ungrateful and uninterested. Basically, I'm a spoilt brat.
Hubby jokes that what I want is a black leaded range, an ulster sink, a kitchenette and a tub and posser. The truth is probably even worse!
The truth is, I don't really care enough. Our kitchen works, I can cook in it; having something "nice" just seems like an excessive luxury.