In which kitchens are taking over the world

[The scene - int, small village shop, day.]

PHONE: Ring. Ring. Ringring. RINGRINGRING.
ME: (slightly breathless) Hello, Pritchard's Bookshop.
SOME GUY: Hello! Would you be interested in a brand new kitchen...
ME: Wha-huh?
SG: ...subject to a free quote and estimate...
ME: (totally nonplussed) This is a bookshop.
SG: Oh. Sorry to have bothered you.

[He hangs up. Long pause.]

PHONE: Ring!
ME: Hello, Pritchard's Bookshop.
SG: ...never mind.

Some time later, I arrive home and meet my parents, who have also, contrary to all expectations, been shopping for a new kitchen.

MOTHER: ...and an island in the middle with the gas, with curved edges or straight I wonder? Maybe both... or would that take too much space...
ME: Shame I won't be here to see it, really.
PEDAR: Iona! Do you want this house as your inheritance?
ME: Ye-es...
PEDAR: Then show more enthusiasm!
ME: Okay... But if you didn't leave this house to me, your only daughter, who would you leave it to?

[long pause]

PEDAR (triumphantly): Infertility!

I'm off out to Colleen's big gay piss-up in a bit. I never want to hear about kitchens, gas ovens, coffee table books about Florence architecture or horizontal Irishmen again in my life.