Been on a bit of a forced hiatus in the kitchen for the last three months. Everything seemed to be on hold as we as a family negotiated the tribulations of moving. I’ve moved a few times in my life and I have to say this was the most stressful. I think there was so much at stake with this one. The chance to buy our dream family home at the same time as selling something that we’d put a lot of love into and thus far brought our children up in.
It’s been a roller coaster of emotions from the elation of finding that house, through to having the kitchen torn apart due to a leaking dish washer. Things got a little dark, juggling work, primary school ending for our eldest, trying to carve out some fun time, packing boxes and basically shoving our possessions and worldly goods into boxes for a move we thought might not go through as another survey was requested from us.
We kept telling ourselves there would be light at the end of the tunnel and when one of us was up the other was down. I’d started to shout out in my sleep and my digestion started to get out of kilter.
A week on in our new home my sleep has returned, and I returned to cooking something creative albeit very simple. It feels a little strange, a bit like renting a holiday cottage. The oven isn’t the same and the gas hob rusted around the fittings just doesn’t respond like I was used to. The cupboards are all different and where I was able to get my hands on an essential piece of apparatus it now takes a hunt and a rustle through the cupboard which inevitably results in shouting up the stairs for the said item!
Stairs are a funny thing, something we longed for, a separation between the night and the day, an opportunity to create a little privacy that we were missing from one side of the house to the other. We’ve taken on a project that much we know, the kitchen will take time to get used to, and hopefully the cooking groove will return bit by bit as the routine of life returns to normal.