In the Kitchen

The majority of my time is spent in the kitchen. (Funny how this seems to be the lot of many women).

The time is mostly spent doing the mediocre chores: loading and unloading the dishwasher and/or washing machine, cleaning out the fridge, clearing out the cupboards, picking up my daughters magnetic alphabets off the floor for the umpteenth time, putting away groceries and of course cooking – an activity I spend the bulk of my time on (too much time if you ask me). As I don’t ever buy ready made microwaveable meals (I like to know what goes into my food) I tend to cook everything from scratch, and I mean everything and believe me, this takes a lot of time. But I get the satisfaction of knowing that my family gets a wholesome, healthy meal with no additives.

Then there are the times when the kitchen stops being the place where I perform mediocre tasks and becomes a place that offers quite a different attraction for me. It becomes a room I can unwind in – a sanctuary of sorts. This is where I sit and read the Sunday paper over a steaming mug of tea, or scribble in my journal, or sneak into to have a quiet phone call with a good friend. It’s the place where, during the summer, I sit on the back step leading into the garden and soak up the sun and watch my flowers grow. Above all, it is the one place where I am allowed to indulge in one of my favourite pastimes – listening to the radio.

In a corner of the kitchen counter on a pile of cook books sits my cute little pale pink DAB satellite radio which was a Christmas present from my husband and the first thing I do when I walk into the kitchen is turn it on. And although I don’t always pay attention to the programme that’s on, the low background murmur of the moderators’ voice has a very comforting and soothing effect on me. Strange but true.

And that’s how I spend my time in the kitchen.