I lived in a rental house when I moved to New Zealand for very much longer than I had ever intended. I have since moved to a far nicer house with a delightful modern kitchen, complete with a full-length lighted pantry, corner cupboards with a lazy Susan in one and a splendid mobile quadruple rack in the other, a dishwasher, a sizeable sink, double oven, separate hob, efficient over-hob extractor, attractive tiled floor with under-floor heating and loads of cupboard space.
The house where I spent six years before the move towards the end of last year had a very small kitchen that was probably constructed in the 1950s or 1960s. The cupboards were not proper kitchen units but simply wooden cupboards – without adjustable shelves – built to fit the space. The cooker was rusting and I did manage to persuade the landlord to replace it – with cheapest model on the market. The extractor was a great heavy fan in a hole in the wall with no cover that terrified the life out of me every time I cleaned it. The flooring was badly damaged vinyl that was almost impossible to keep clean.
Given that I have spent a very large part of my life writing cookbooks, this travesty was not really a comfortable place to be.
Farage has resigned as an MP for Clacton?
Anyone else struggle with this?
My dad spent 40 years mastering his craft, and last week someone half his age told him how to eat.😠




