This is the Comfort-Lover’s kitchen.
Not, of course, that it ever really looks like this, apart from just after one of my (irregular) house cleaning fits (usually when it’s got to the point I dread passing visitors and meter-readers) or when I am expecting guests. Not, I should add hastily, that I am particularly grubby. Just very good at piling things up ready to put away.
When I was doing up my kitchen I didn’t really think about green, more about it being practical and looking pretty. It’s one end of my living room, you see, both my main living space and the bit everyone sees as they come through the front door. But, thinking about it - as I plan my polytunnel while watching the snow falling, yet again, on my garden - my kitchen really is quite green.
Apart from the shelves (I’d run out of steam by then) and the appliances, which I had anyhow, almost everything is recycled. The units are second-hand, and, apart from the digital scales and the compost crock, and almost everything else is from charity shops. Apart from the gondola, which is from Venice. Long story.
Anyhow, when I was thinking about my kitchen, my main idea was to get rid of the conventional one I had before, which was at least twenty years old, probably the height of fashion at the time (nothing to do with me), but cheap and nasty behind the faux-rustic wooden doors, and generally falling to bits.
The main stress of changing a kitchen, as far as I was concerned, was workmen. I know there are good ones out there, but they are hard to find and usually booked up and as I mostly work at home, and most of the time to deadlines, the thought of having workmen in and out at times not of my choosing did my head in.
Besides, I’m trying to keep the character my home, and my little nineteenth century cottage would originally have just had a range and a few shelves as a kitchen. And, as there was still a standpipe and loo at the bottom of the garden in the 1960s, not a lot else. As in running water, let alone my hot-and-cold-on-tap luxury.
Then I discovered this second-hand/antique furniture shop near where I work when I’m not working at home. And the first thing I saw when I stepped inside was a marble washstand with the most gorgeous tiles. And that was it: that was where my kitchen began. I finally threw out the idea of replacing one kitchen with another, thought out of the box, and went for it. Over the next few months, keeping an eye out every lunch break, I gradually collected the cupboards I needed. I had a rough plan, and my measuring tape went with me everywhere. But half the fun was finding something unexpected and then having to rethink the whole thing. A plate rack appeared. Then the corner cupboard, which holds most of my foodstuffs and which I love. Then a couple of sturdy cupboards for pots and pans etc.
And then the table. A real solid, old-fashioned country kitchen table. I had a quiet fit over that one. At £300 it was by far the most expensive thing in the entire room (and that includes my beautiful 1950s Welsh Dresser), and at least double the price I’d planned. But I’ve watched ‘Grand Designs’, and I know these things happen, and you just have to go with the flow. And am I glad I did. My table is the heart of my kitchen. It’s solid, it’s practical, and every new scratch just adds to the old ones and its character. I chop on it, mix on it, and soon I’ll be making bread on it. And one day I’ll keep my resolve not to dump files and papers on it, too.
Then there are all the bits and pieces. I always keep my eye out in charity shops, whenever I’m passing, knowing that the thing you want will turn up at some point. My coffee sugar and tea containers appeared for £1 each, an entire dinner service for £5. And of course there’s my wonderful butter dish for under a fiver. All of which sit with a glow of triumph on the shelves.
I’ve grown to enjoy the sense of the unexpected, the hunting out of the unusual. The challenge of finding something you just know will be perfect, but then have to move everything around to fit it in. Of course, I have had a handyman in to do bits. I’ve put up shelves in other parts of the house, but I felt it needed a slightly more expert touch for the main room, especially as no wall or ceiling is straight in my cottage, and that takes serious skill. But all in all, it’s meant I’ve been able to do most of it myself.
It still needs little bits done, like a few tiles and more places to hang things. But those will happen, bit-by-bit, when I have time and find the right things. And the best thing I’ve found is that my kitchen is really quite easy to keep clean. I use water and vinegar, and an eco cleaner if I need it. It’s easier because I don’t eat meat, but, in any case, I tend to use chopping boards for everything.
And so that is the Comfort-Lover’s guide to getting the kitchen of your dreams for under £1000. And yes, it did drive me mad at times, and it took me much longer than I thought – although that was partly down to the arrival of a six-week-old puppy three quarters of the way through. Who was very much wanted and planned for, I should add, but just not exactly at that moment, and who took quite a bit of distracting from chewing the entire thing to bits.
But then, if you think about it, the pieces of my kitchen have already survived all kinds of eventualities for years. Most probably all of them will have been a part of families’ lives, the familiar object for a child growing up. The pieces that make up my kitchen have aged with fortitude and grace. And I’m quite certain they’ll survive in style for a good few years yet.
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