The Sink

Dad has sold the Aga.The kitchen at the old house feels even more peculiar without it dominating the kitchen. The wall tiles which were chosen to match this fiery beast now look dejected and pointless in their original packaging, covered in an ever deepening layer of dust.

I am surprised to see cobwebs in the hole where the Aga used to be.

The next thing Dad intends to take is the sink. The rest of the house is far from being packed up and he is still sleeping here, but Dad feels strongly that the sink is practically new and in excellent condition. He doesn't want to be swindled out of a perfectly good sink just because he's moving house.

The sink is brown and textured. The plugholes have lost their brown coating from too many occasions of being used to rinse away various solvents. The draining area is covered in an unkown and slightly sticky layer which will not come away despite liberal doses of bleach, white spirit, vinegar and elbow grease. It's not pleasant to look at or smell but Dad really wants to take it. He can do this because the plot rather than the house is being sold.