A tale of two Smeg fridges
The new silver Smeg fridge standing in the corner of the kitchen is my pride and joy. The only trouble is that every time I catch sight of it I am reminded of my own middle age and my daughter’s youth.
I’ve wanted a Smeg fridge for ages and when we moved house I blew the budget, whizzed over to John Lewis and ordered one. Despite the eye-watering price tag I haven’t regretted it for a second. It’s a thing of beauty in my eyes – chic and comforting in our rather ropey kitchen.
But if I assumed Smeg fridges were for storing skimmed milk, cheese, broccoli and fresh pasta then my daughter has put me right.
In the early hours of the morning she texted me a picture of her Smeg fridge. And no, as a cash-strapped London student she hasn’t got one in her flat. Her Smeg fridge is to be found at one of her favourite Spitalfields haunts – The Breakfast Club.
The restaurant is tucked away down a side street near Liverpool Street station. Inside there’s a cream Smeg fridge and when you push open the door you find yourself in a cocktail bar that boasts exposed brickwork, pulsating music and an impressive cocktail list.
Suddenly my Smeg fridge seems a little bit tame by comparison…