And at other times there will be out and out warfare. And that's where Mum and I are at. Over. A. Table.
To me it's a battered old thing:
worn, imperfect, solid, functional and full of character and potential.
To Mum it's an eyesore, a piece of junk
definitely undesirable in the pristine kitchen zone (to be).
Our conflict is borne in fundamentals:
- a difference of taste
- a generational divide
- a power struggle and
- a line drawn definitively in the sand.
Who will win the battle?
Who will win the war?