Shakespeare Challenge: unreal

I’m in the kitchen playing with a new lens that the postman’s just delivered. A ‘bargain’ on Fleabay.

me: “I don’t know what to do for my blip today. I don’t think I’ll do the Shakespeare challenge”
Anniemay: “I’m in the kitchen - you could say that’s unreal”

And so Blip reveals a family secret. I wonder how many other secrets are divulged - inadvertently or otherwise - through this enterprise.

It’s not that she can’t cook; we’ve just evolved into certain roles over the years. I do the cooking, she does the laundry. But it goes further than that - we’ve become territorial about our respective roles. The kitchen is referred to a ‘my kitchen’. And Anniemay is guarding the entrance to her domain - the utility room hides all the paraphernalia associated with cleaning clothes. I am no longer trusted with the washing machine; to be fair - I go into a faint when she goes near one of my Le Crueset pans.

As I write this, something strikes me; cooking involves putting things together - assembling disparate ingredients. Anniemay’s forte is the opposite - taking things apart. She often helps friends renovate their houses - she goes in first as part of the demolition squad. She even has her own crowbar (I kid you not).

The room you see used to be two - the kitchen was separated from the dining room by a wall. She asked one day if she could take down a kitchen shelf -“just to see what it looks like without it”. She didn't stop until the wall came down as well.

Once I’d recovered from the shock I admitted to liking the idea. Even more so, once the builders had been in to replaster the walls and ceiling.

Annie’s in the basement
mixing up cement
I’m looking round
trying to figure where the wall went

(apologies to Bob Dylan)