lino & plywood splashbacks

After a hectic day at work, my Brit and I went home to chill with a bottle of Diemersfontein Pinotage, a chicken pie and a bag of Chuckles. And therein we spent the evening.

What bliss. It feels incredibly foreign to have a foreigner. Under the same blanket as I. On my couch. Its been a long time since I had a loved one chillin' in my yard.
It's awesome.

Idly going about the business of intense telly watching, firing up the halogen heater, and going about other business indicative of what we'd, er, do.

We came across a BBC programme last night entitled UnSellables. Houses on the market that can't budge.

Brit: Well that makes sense.

Peas: It's a 70s hippie den inside there.

Brit: Two materials I never want to have anything to do with: Lino and plywood splashbacks.

Peas: Linoleum, crisis, when it curls up at the edges after a few years.

Brit: Always in shades of brown. Have you seen the type that look like tiles? Lino with painted tiles on top? From a healthy distance it almost looks real, and then you ask yourself when you get closer, 'But where's the grouting mate?'

Peas: Or someone puts a cigarette out on it thinking it's actual real tiles, and then...they burn a hole in it.

Brit: And when you wash one spot repeatedly, it fades. Promise me we'll never have it anywhere near our house, ever. Never.

Peas: Not in this lifetime. In fact, not even if we were in the 70s right now.

Brit: You could put your sunlamp on it. They would go nicely.

Peas: Still getting the sunlamp.

Brit: This place is colder than bloody London, you need one here not there.

Tonight he's meeting the majority of my mates and parents at a braai I've organised. ('A braai in this cold? You Saffas are fucking crazy.')

Bless his little thermals.