When it comes to houses, there are some things that are simply non-negotiable for me. One such thing is a decent bathtub. I’m aware that not everyone feels this way – it’s all too apparent every time I’ve been faced with the sad reality of not having access to one. Candice cares much less about it than I do, so I’m left to deal on my own.
Well, I’ve come up with a solution. You want to know what it is? Good, because I’m about to tell you: inflatable bathtubs. There’s a company in Amsterdam that makes them. You can hook them up to your hot water system and drainage, and enjoy all the benefits of bathing without the rigmarole of engaging a bathroom renovations company. Melbourne has just made it onto the list of places these things can be shipped to, and I’ve already placed my order.
Candice is sceptical, but she always is when it comes to this sort of thing, and she almost always comes round to the genius of the decision. You should have seen her when I bought our couch – she wanted nothing to do with it, and now it’s her favourite spot. Don’t get me wrong; I can see how there’s plenty of room for scepticism when it comes to inflatable furnishings. But I’ve done my research on the design and materials, and I couldn’t be more sold if you paid me.
If only there were such an easy solution in the realm of kitchen design. Melbourne homes, especially ones built in the 1950s, often seem to have these pokey little kitchens with no room to swing a cat. Not that’d I’d be swinging a cat, but I would like to be able to smash out a feast from the new Ottolenghi cookbook, and a bit more room to manoeuvre the dried limes and ras el hanout would be nice.