Getting Plastered

We've never had a kitchen. It's safe to say that. At Drovers we had a galley. This is what happens to a kitchen when it's left out in the sun too long in the suburbs. Back in 2014 we started to bash our then damp rotten kitchen to pieces. That's right, three years ago. That's how long the journey to get to where we are now has taken. Sure, we had it part plastered in 2015 and it was boarded and then we ran out of money. Since then we have prepared meals on top of the washing machine. We kid you not, it was our only work top.

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We have patience, our then new washing machine purchased back in 2009 didn't ever see the new kitchen, it heard whispers of it but it didn't survive the upheaval of all that dust and the computer part of it simply gave up the ghost in 2016 -- this meant we had to save up again and farewell to the kitchen that year. This space has come a long way since we took possession of it as three damp rooms. The boarded walls of fly infested formica are gone. These flame retardant boards went on the bonfire as an afterthought and turned to ash in seconds. We found hidden doorways and stairs to cellars long gone and still the boarding sat above us as we scraped, and pointed and pounded off black concrete; allowing the damp to dry and the moths to die off.

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So, last week, we dropped the lights so they could be plastered around before being replaced. Cue some last minute light shopping and arguments. Well, it has taken three years and you do want to get it right and then here comes the plasterer. He's ill. He pushes on. Cue rushes to the toilet, the verge outside and hurling noises. Only at Pig Row can we find the only plasterer to get food poisoning in Phuket. Our plasterer is not an international plasterer, he's just been on holiday before our job, but bless him he pushes on. He's the 007 of plasterers. He makes our old plasterer looks like he was playing with plasticine.

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Sweating, eyes bulging he completes the ceiling and asks can he come back to do under the stairs and we're more than happy for him to do that. Frankly, there's only so many vomiting sounds you can cope with after a long day. Our plasterer comes in the evening or weekends. Most plasterers do nowadays. They're probably all vampires. That sounds so middle class. Poor plasterer. At least it wasn't quinoa. Just joking.

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What you don't see is that everything that was in the kitchen is in the family room, which normally looks like this but for the next few weeks will means all meals are eaten like this...

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Yes, Little D is scoffing toast between a saw and a boxed chicken coop. We're living the good life here and we have the tools to do it. Somewhere under here is the washing liquid for the clothes, somewhere under here...

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So, we make cocktails. That's right, cocktails from the fruit in the fridge and after the vomiting plasterer is gone, we get plastered too.

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