There’s a cliched scene in Hollywood movies in which two people – usually a couple, but not always – succumb to their passions in the kitchen. Items that live on kitchen counters are swept to the floor, while a lingerie-clad woman jumps on the worktop, because she doesn’t have a roommate who minds breakages.
There’s only one thing that crosses my mind when I see that scene: bloody hell, they have a big kitchen.
I think of all the tiny, workspace-deprived kitchenettes I’ve lived with. I can’t imagine anything less erotic than a sink-side seduction; squeezing on to the freezing bit of worktop next to the fridge, the double plug socket poking into your back, bashing your head on overcrowded shelves. Who needs silk sheets and candles when you have badly stacked cans of spaghetti hoops cascading around you?
Space is the final (property) frontier, the ultimate freedom. With 2018 a day away, space is my mission for next year. I know the most I can ask for is a foot here and there; I wouldn’t expect to land a place like this five-bed house in the exquisite Mumbles area of Swansea, advertised on zoopla.co.uk. Nearly 2,500 sq ft with views through french doors over the landscape. And the biggest room? The kitchen. This building, formerly a theatre, would be perfect for an unrealistic Hollywood romance scene, but enough space to roll some dough would work just fine for me.
