Nojomo 25 in Nojomo 2014

What’s my most vivid memory of the kitchen in my childhood…

The kitchen from my childhood is still the kitchen of my dad’s house but it has been through many incarnations.

It’s always been split in two parts, the scullery which is a northern term. It’s a very old fashioned term which refers to a room in its own right. In my dad’s house it is the end of the kitchen which has the cooker, fridge and sink, cupboards and worktops etc. That hasn’t changed other than new cupboards and appliances. When I was small, up to the age of 6, there was a white, built in table and benches by the window, a large pantry and built in shelves. There was an arched doorway between the scullery and the main area. In 1977 we went on a canal holiday at Easter while the builders came in. The pantry was made much smaller to create more space within the dining area. The arch demolished, the built in shelves were gone as were the table and benches. Mum and dad bought a large pine table, we could fit 8 people around it comfortably. That table became the centre of our home. Sitting around the table with friends or as a family. Sitting on the table chatting to mum while she cooked, having tea and toast with my friends when we got home from the pub. Every Christmas we would take the legs off it to carry it through to the dining room (usually used as a music room) to eat Christmas dinner. Thousands of meals, laughter and tantrums, getting support after heartache, early mornings eating breakfast alone when I had to get the 7.20 train to college. The amount of people around the table gradually reducing as we grew up, moved on in life. Still to be filled up every Christmas. It still had the marks on it that were made when we were kids, dints and bangs. I love that table.

A few years ago my dad and his wife decided to have the kitchen extended, the scullery is still the same but the dining area is at least double the size, the pantry has gone altogether. And they bought a table, a new and much bigger table, in order to fit all the family around because now, of course, there are spouses and grandkids to add to the mix. It doesn’t go into the music room any more because it’s too big to fit, but this new table is creating it’s own memories, times with dad and his wife, with the kids. The last time we visited my brother turned up with his two kids (without knowing I was there), my l’il sis came with her kids (she did know I was there) so the six cousins were together, piled around the table eating ham and cheese baguettes, drinking orange juice and making their own memories too.

And that’s why, at home, we always eat at the table, paint at the table, do everything at the table. Our table is a small table and sits in our living room as we don’t have space in the kitchen nor a dining room but it has its scars, its signs of life over the past eleven years, and the nine since children joined the household. It tells of our girls and the childminded family through the years and I love the way it’s evolving.

Kitchen tables really should be considered part of the family, given the love and respect that they deserve and never be allowed to rot alone at the end of their lives.