The men came with the kitchen last night.  They carried it into the big room downstairs as if it was made of cardboard, making me feel like I'd bought a duff.  They left in a cloud of frost breath into the dark night. I waited til they left and lifted one end of the smallest cupboard.  It wouldn't shift.  I reasoned I was tired and went to bed.

Today they wouldn't shift either so I caroled in Madeleine and Emma; brawn and brains, and within minutes the kitchen was up in the kitchen. 

What followed was the breaking of a thousand eggs in the making of an omelette I had no idea was to be so big.

And it was big. It was huge.  The change was heart-stoppingly dramatic.

It took all day and to finish it off we trundled the old chaise longue beneath the window and rolled a rag rug out in front of it.  

We opened a bottle of wine and listened to Crosby Stills and Nash.