Friday, 8 July 2011
What A Fiddle
The old copper kettle that I bought off Mark, from a few boats down river, did me proud, and very soon I was peacefully sitting out in the back dining room, with the canopy rolled up and the morning sun streaming in, eating breakfast for one at the dining table.
I tried to read the paper but I had ants in me pants, and kept looking to see how I could improve the kitchen. An hour later I had my work-bench out on the quay, with tools and plywood set to go, ready to make some shelves to hold the plates and glasses on the wall.
Mike came by and informed me that I wasn't making a shelf, but instead it's called a 'fiddle' - and that it's not for the kitchen, but the 'galley'.
What does he know?