... feminist, atheist, autistic academic and historic narrowboater ...
Likes snooker, beer, tea, rivets and solitude, and is strangely fascinated by the cinema organ.
And there might be something about railways.

Tuesday 15 January 2019

On the rack

This is my dish draining rack:
With every drainer I've had in my adult life, I've been looking for one like the one I grew up with - the same ratio of plate and dish to cup space, the robust plastic coating, the cheery sixties colour. Nothing I bought over the past forty years ever quite lived up to that memory.

And now I have one that is perfect. Because this *is* the one I grew up with. This draining rack is at least 48 years old, because I remember it being in our house in Thornton Heath, which we left in 1971. My mother kept it - and used it - every day since then (never a dishwasher for her) and I have now reclaimed it as my inheritance.

There is not a crack in the plastic; not a hint of rust. It cheers up my kitchen and makes me just that little bit happier when I use it every day.

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