So, we live in a smallish rented flat in Kemp Town, Brighton. The kitchen is, quite frankly, a bit of a 'mare. For a start, it's something of a cubby hole, off the living room. There isn't enough storage space, so the crockery lives in a shelving unit just on the living room/kitchen border. Oh, and it's done out in classy MFI,circa 1985...sigh. Here it is in all its glory:
One of the most crappy things about this crappy kitchen is the cooker. The hob is gas, but the trivets are stupidly sized so my smallest pans balance precariously above the flames. The oven is electric and most definitely not fan assisted. It features a large metal plate on the bottom that heats up (very slowly) and then burns the underside of whatever is cooking. It also only has one shelf. I have had to devise a fiendlishly complex process to try and avoid the bottoms of all my cakes being black. I may share it in a later post (if anyone's still awake).
We don't have anything as useful as a dishwasher, and instead are compelled to wash up by hand. So there is usually a pile of dirty stuff waiting for someone to get off their arse and clean it. The pile is usually not small. This pic is therefore an aberration.
And finally, the fridge....ah, the fridge. When we moved in the landlady asked in an incredulous tone 'you don't need a freezer, do you?' Well, we were shit out of luck if we did. Luckily though, the non-working feezer section manages to take up plenty of space. I also really enjoy getting on my hands and knees to peer into its dark recesses.
