The Last of the Hippies

 

Just when you think you know the partner you have been with for the past two years, something happens that jolts you out of a seeming reverie and sightless state. It’s a bit like being blinded by dazzling sun-light when on your bike or in the car but as the sun temporarily disappears behind a tree or a building,  your 20-20 vision is restored again.

One evening,  my partner and I, a living-apart-together couple, were discussing the ins and outs of IKEA kitchens, which I would add has rapidly become a popular pastime of the modern age. Our LAT status  was soon to be changing  to “Living Together”. We were armed with the IKEA kitchen brochure showcasing its sundry supplies and were slightly mesmerized by the extent of the choice you are inflicted with. What becomes clear as you wade through ‘perfect family’ kitchens is that the choosing becomes easier when you see the prices of everything. It is also true that there is a definite scale of utility abuse that certain materials need measuring by.  A beautiful,  natural-looking wooden work surface would catch the aesthetic eye, but as you read the description in the catalogue, you are cautiously reminded of the scratches, marks and discoloration which that oak or ash is destined to acquire in its short lifespan. The maintenance of an IKEA wooden sideboard would almost certainly require an intensive training course, something that should be thrown into the bargain. We both came to the emphatic conclusion that wood was out and laminate surfaces were the way to go, even if they are artificial.

We seemed to be seeing eye to eye on everything,  that is until the subject of appliances came into play. It started off quite innocently with’ to choose a double sink or a single sink? Should we opt for that fridge-freezer combi or the other? Then it happened, quite suddenly that the dishwasher made its debut.  My partner looked horrified. Arguments against owning said appliance shot out. He had never used a dishwasher before and had no clue how to operate one. He always did the dishes by hand. This couldn’t be happening surely, that the 21st Century was finally catching up with him? I retorted with the best arguments I could think of and I made it perfectly clear that I was not going to cook in a kitchen where there was no dishwashing machine. I would rather forego a SMEG cooker with six gas burners than a dishwasher, which was quite a thing to admit to, even to myself. I suddenly felt a product of the age I was living in; convenience, ease, comfort, minimum discomfort and above all time-saving. Yes, that covered it, but I was astonished that my significant other was having such trouble with the idea of using a machine rather than his own hands. It also struck me that he really is one of the last male hippies to grace the Western world. A man of his own design, not to be swayed by kitchen appliance manufacturers. We should protect this dying species, a relic of a bygone era.  The name to be coined: ‘Homohippiens’.