the squalor, the squalor

Day 2 of the kitchen. Last night we used the cooker. Today it was dumped on the skip, in all its antique (26 years old), grease laden splendour. But now there is no running water or cooking,or washing machine facility. The front room has already become a comfortable sty, with us picking our way through boxes of cutlery, tins and cat food pouches. The cats disappear all day, one deep under our sofa, the other to parts unknown. But when the workers leave and all goes quiet again, they emerge warily, driven by hunger, for they have missed their lunchtime pouch.