Unfortunately the kitchen ceiling resembled a sauna, in that it was clad in scarily orange varnished wooden slats. I ignored that and instead concentrated on the terracotta stone tiled floor. How gorgeous, I thought smugly. It isn't gorgeous. It's a bugger to clean and cold in the mornings. My Mum commented on how dark the kitchen was. I didn't see it. (perhaps because it was so bloody dark), and argued that is was cosy.
My fabulous Dad had the ceiling down and replastered within weeks. No more sauna. Two years after moving in I admitted that my Mum had been right on the daylight thing, and, sick of having to have the lights on in the day time, I had light tunnels installed in the ceiling. Fantastic. Until it rained. A lot. I came home from work one day and went skidding across the cold, mucky tiled kitchen floor due to a large reservoir that had appeared, thanks to a leak from the light tunnels. This happened twice. The problem has now been fixed thankfully, although each time it rains I find myself standing underneath them, waiting to see if I can feel water on my head.
Having a large ish kitchen means I can also house my large amount of recipe books, which seem to breed overnight. This is a small selection....
We are hoping to put a new kitchen in next year. I am thinking of cream units with beech block work tops. We will keep the horrid tiled floor, although I think the red and cream tiles will have to go if the whole room is re-organised.
My absolute favourite thing of all though, which will never go anywhere and will take centre stage in any refurbishment project, is our fridge. I love it, and have even considered having it put onto casters so if the house ever catches fire I can wheel it outside and save it.