Friday, February 3, 2012

I sleep in the kitchen with my feet in the hall

I am tall, just about 6 feet. We are having a new kitchen but we don't have a hall.  The kitchen we dismantled was still serviceable, but as we've just retired we thought we deserved a new one.
The culture of new rather than repair and mend is still with us, and I felt a little guilty taking out old units, but no body we knew wanted them and I don't think they would have sold. So now the old ones are sitting in a Skip/dumpster at the council recycling centre waiting to be burnt . I guess they may go to produce electricity, which may warm me one day.

That old kitchen had a lot of stored memories, many good meals and one or two heartaches. I like the word kitchen not for the sound but for the associations......, warmth, generosity, pleasure.

Tony Blair had a "kitchen cabinet", but he used that to wage an illegal war. Maybe it's time to replace that way of making decisions. The world should try and bake a new cake from the burnt crumbs of the boom.
We might find some seeds of hope in the debris, some fertile soil amongst the weeds, some water in the melting glaciers, and some sun in between the lowering clouds.

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