A Kitchen Is Asleep

Alfred Hitchcock commented that happiness is a small house with a big kitchen. Well, we see the wisdom in his thinking but are mindful, also, that gluttony and excess were amongst his numerous traits of character.

The kitchen does not need to be big. The kitchen also does not need to be extravagant or enviably equipped. Not for this conversation.

Think of your kitchen amidst the chaos of a family weekday breakfast. Think of it at the heart of a long lunch with friends. Think of it’s soft beguile on a Winters evening with a robust dinner for two as the definition of comfort.

Think again. What about the kitchen you know so well in the small hours with the world fast asleep?

One of my quiet pleasures is those occasional nights where sleep, for any reason, is broken. The joy of these occasions is, of course, multiplied if there is no pressing reason to be awake again in a couple of hours.

Take a seat. The kitchen is tidy. Not pristine or meticulous but nicely tidy. The house is silent. Maybe it is windy outside. That may be what woke you.

Here you are. The soothing light of a cooker hood. The tiny glow of a kettle switch. The burble and flicker of a blue flame to warm some milk.

Whatever you want. Right now this is your place. Your place alone. The tranquility of solitude.

Like a very well taken photograph, everything has a familiarity but appears slightly, subtly and curiously different in the very small hours.

Maybe the radio? Maybe even put a record on. Not too loud. You do not want to jeopardize your exquisite contemplation. Look out of the window. Maybe an owl. A fox. Maybe your kitchen is in a town or a city. Silent roads being swept and slow traffic lights.

It’s all out there and you are in here. Secure, familiar and perfectly quiet.

And then. You yawn. Put the used cup, or glass, by the sink. Take a loving last look.

It’s OK. You’ll see it in a few hours. Noisier, busier and faster. A different kitchen.

Go with it. The nocturnal kitchen is a good reason not to take sleeping pills. So, not only is it one of life’s unspoken privileges it is good for you.

And to finish. Keep it secret. You don’t want the small hours kitchen to become a thing.

Shh. Quiet. Goodnight.