inspiring photo essay iii, pt. 9: new kitchen

And so we reach the final curtain. Will anything ever be the same again? No. That is how time works, you fool.

I will finish off with a round-up I am amusingly calling 'Housekeeping'. You deep-down didn't believe what I said about B&Q and Kafka calling Kathy 'Mrs K'. Here is Capa-esque photojournalistic proof after they tried to deliver a replacement piece of rubber but we didn't notice because we were upstairs and there is no doorbell:



Yes, we now have a dishwasher (for washing dishes)



and a clothes drier (for drying clothes)



and never the twain shall meet unless this is the future and they are sentient, because they are right next to each other. If they are sentient, though, then they are probably part of a single all-encompassing electric intelligence, which means that they wouldn't 'meet' any more than a liver would meet a heart. Or, to be more precise, given the processing power in these machines, and the likely size of an all-encompassing electric intelligence, any more than two neurons would meet each other. So, all in all I think I am covered and: never the twain shall meet.

The clothes drier is made by White Knight. 'Like the hockey kit manufacturer?' you are thinking, a thrill of recognition coursing through your loin or loins. Similar, but not the same. Here are the two logos:





So, this is it. Nothing remains to be done, probably? Well, that depends. Look at this picture closely and you will see that around the handles are little bits of plastic.



A recent visitor thought these were the last bits of plastic that we hadn't removed from the doors and started peeling. What a tangled web he wove, because they are actually the bits of plastic roughed up by the attachment of handles. The rest of all drawers and cupboards are covered in thin transparent plastic film. It is the capitalists' job to remove this, is my take. Why remove a layer of protection you can only see a bit?

What's the time, Mr Wolf?



It is 11.23.

Where do you keep your sugar, Mr Wolf?



In a Fortnum and Mason stilton pot.

Was the extractor fan replaced in the end, Mr Wolf?



It was and here it is. It extracts, too. I cooked the traditionally kitchen-heating meal of ham, red cabbage, haggis and multiple-root-vegetable mash and then four of us ate comfortably in the kitchen, including John Finnemore who is over there on the right (he was the clear-film-peeler, there, I've said it). It was an astonishing and heartwarming sight.

So you would really place Kathy and Ian in the pantheon of heroes, then, Mr Wolf? With EM Delafield, Ken Fraser, your mother and Kenny Dalglish?

You didn't link to Ken Fraser, Mr Wolf. Why not?

So you would ask that question. Partly because I wanted to be called Mr Wolf one more time, I find it sexy, and partly because I wanted to finish with this picture, which was taken in our kitchen before we got it redone. (It is of Ken Fraser.)



So it's the end.