Thursday, September 01, 2011

Exodus 16:iii

And the children of Israel said unto them, Would to God we had died by the hand of the LORD in the land of Egypt, when we sat by the flesh pots, and when we did eat bread to the full; for ye have brought us forth into this wilderness, to kill this whole assembly with hunger.

Which, in The Inn's signature understated way, means we are back to having no kitchen for a few days while it's being titivated. We lost it for a three or four days when the countertop was being installed. After a brief respite, we are banished again. At the moment the walls are being prepped and industrial strength sanding is going on. Painting to follow. So everything portable has been packed away and it's a no-go area for a couple of days.

These guys are very good workmen. They really are. I'd recommend their professional skills to anyone.

But sometimes, you have to wonder. Yesterday, I made a pitcher of iced tea and brought it to the other room for safe-keeping. Somebody brought it back to kitchen. Somebody then packed it in a box with the other things being cleared out. Who the %$^x! packs away a pitcher of iced tea?? Might it be the same person who turned the said pitcher on its side so that the top of the box would fit better? Yes. Just what you're thinking: everything else in the box is soaked and tinted a lovely tan colour.

Tea stains many things wonderfully. Did you know that tea stains were the origin of khaki uniforms? The red woolen coats of the army in India were unbearably hot back when the Indian Empire was just a twinkle in the British East India Company's eye. Eventually they came up a tropical white uniform as something cooler. Trouble was, the white made the soldiers stand out rather well and made them splendid targets. But if you soaked the uniforms in tea you got a much less conspicuous, albeit a trifle tacky looking, uniform. In time khaki uniforms were officially issued and the unforms became, uh, uniform.

Where was I? Oh, yes. We are now ensconced in our partially furnished office with a few books, our computer, our smallpipes, a box of almonds and no iced tea.

We may have a kitchen again by the weekend.

Or part of a kitchen.

Or not.