Occasional tedious ramblings from a feminist, atheist, autistic academic and historic narrow boater who likes cats, beer, tea, and solitude, and is strangely fascinated by the cinema organ.
Thursday, 19 August 2010
No crumbs in my crumb drawer
Ah, the crumb drawer, the concept of a special drawer just for catching crumbs surely the result of some old boatman having a good wind-up at Tom Rolt's expense. Never be caught calling it that, I've been told; death to credibility. And of course, the idea is daft when you think about it.
Nonetheless I do find myself calling the knife drawer the crumb drawer, for one very simple reason: the bloody crumbs get in there regardless. All over the knives (or in my case useful odds and ends). Always I forget to sweep off the table after making sandwiches, tip it up, if only to get past, and ooops, another load of crumbs in the drawer.
But no longer. I have installed my lovely Formica tray, government stamped 1963, which I rescued from being thrown out by the university just before I left Huddersfield. (Long term readers may recall the adventures of the yucca plant that was rehomed at the same time, and travelled on Andante's fore end from Huddersfield to Stretton). This tray not only looks the part, it is big enough to capture all the detritus of sandwich preparation and, indeed, most other culinary activities. The useful things drawer is now much cleaner as a result.