Thursday, 1 October 2009


So I’ve been sleeping on my ex-boyfriend’s sofa for four months. Yes, I said four months. Count them. Onetwothreefour. That’s approximately 120 days. On a very-narrow-and-not-very-comfortable-sofa. Which belongs to and resides in the home of my ex-boyfriend. It’s been interesting. For the past, oh, say four months he’s had a haunted look in his eye and an increasingly deep furrow in his brow.

There’s a lengthy back story which I’ll give you in a nutshell: we split up aaaaaaages ago but were fortunate enough to remain friends (I mean proper friends - the type who have both since had other relationships and it’s not been weird). I was sharing a flat with a friend, I got made redundant, ergo had to move out, ex let me crash on his sofa for a ‘couple of weeks’ til I sorted my shit out…. and here we are.

Anyway, the reason I’m telling you this is because last month the ark angel Gabriel and his chorus of cherubs parted the sky and sent their countless blessings down to me (and my ex) and found me a flat. A teeny tiny toaty wee flat but a flat all the same. With an actual bed.

So this time four weeks ago I was deep in the throws of packing. Now give or take the odd book or doll from my childhood which is steeped in sentimental value, and of course my ‘things’ which make a home a home, I’m not really much of a hoarder. In fact I’m pretty good at throwing stuff out. Ruthless in fact. If someone gives me a gift and I don’t like it, I get rid of it, no worries about hurt feelings. If something’s been in a box and I haven’t even thought about it for three months, it goes. And so it was that I ended up lugging two massive Ikea bags worth of books to a wee second hand Bookshop and another load of tat, sorry stuff, to charity shops. Great. My self-imposed ‘be ruthless’ rule was working really well. And then I started on the kitchen.

I have an apparent emotional bond to every single utensil I own. The concept of attachment is taken to a whole new level when it comes to me and my kitchen stuff. And as for my cookery books…. I imagine I feel something similar to that which a new mother feels when she leaves her baby for the first time at the thought of off-loading any of those. I have more than I’d care to elaborate and amongst them are books from which I’ve never cooked, and never will. I just like the pictures. And then there are the ones with page marker ribbons. And lovely matt pages. And beautiful styling and photography. And have you seen the dishes and jars and utensils? And the writer’s houses? And I WANT THEIR LIVES.

And then there’s my pink spatulas. So lovely. My collection of salad servers. The lovely wee dessert cups with matching spoons that I’ve never used (but I will). The wee white ramekins which come out once in a blue moon but I Absolutely Had To Have. The delicate glass tea cups and saucers which would be adorable to serve mint tea, and the cake stand which seldom sees a crumb. The espresso cups and saucers which are used as ornaments and the empty jars which I know will come in really useful for something. Not to mention the mandolin which I use probably twice a year and nearly caused me to lose the tip of my thumb one Christmas. The salad spinner, the lovely wee green jug from the Bethany Shop and the bamboo chop sticks. I am already panicking about how I’m going to fit all this in my new mini kitchen but could I get rid of any of it? Don’t be silly.

And then I found myself in a charity shop, buying a set of four pretty glasses that I really really needed, and then in town buying a kettle, a stove top coffee maker, a couple of really good sharp knives, a chopping board, some tea towels, a pretty tea storage jar (it’ll go so well with one I’ve got), and a set of new crockery: four dinner plates, side plates, bowls and mugs. I stood for over half an hour deliberating over two different types of zester (neither good enough) and my search for the perfect oven glove continues to elude me.

Do I need to get out more? Perhaps. I wonder if there’s such a thing as KSA? My name is Carine and I’m a Kitchen-Stuffaholic.


Jennie Landels said...

I am right there with you lovely! I have SO much stuff it is crazy! I could actually cater for 50 I have enough side plates, dinner plates, bowls etc of different patterns, sizes and the like! It is a habit but I am with you... one day when we have our beautiful homes we will use them!! x

Gemma said...

Snap! It all fit beautifully into our previous big Edinburgh kitchen but our teeny tiny London kitchen is about a fifth of the size and somehow I have to still fit it all in :(

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