Hinges. Thrilling, right?
All my life, I’ve wanted a carousel kitchen cupboard. My Gran had one and I have so many happy memories of being reprimanded for spinning it round to look for treats. Having one would mean I was a Real Adult.
It was a must for my new kitchen.
IKEA drip-fed me my kitchen order, but after only 18 weeks the cabinets were IN.
I’d been away while they were being installed, so when I returned I scampered eagerly (cursed and plodded) up The Steps to see my masterpiece.
There was my carousel cupboard! With spinning shelves! And…. only half a door.
“Oh, they sent the wrong hinges,” I was told.
No problem! I phoned IKEA. Realised I didn’t know the Spanish for hinges. Begged my long-suffering builder to call them for me.
“They apologised - they’ll send the right ones over.” Success!
Only 10 days later, and a giant box arrives - big enough for me to fit in (of course I tried) containing simply the 2 hinges. Elated, I call the builder and he curses his way up The Steps to find out…. they’re the wrong hinges.
So, we pore over every type of hinge and order what we 100% definitely need, rather than trusting Ikea to send the correct replacement.
3 days later (speedy, right?) and I get a call to tell me a package has been dropped off with another English person in the village (couriers don’t like The Steps either). My hinges!
Builder comes round. I fetch my hinges. They’re wrong.
We stare at each other in disbelief and drink some wine.
I’m due back in England for a tour, so I order a giant bag of every type of kitchen cupboard hinge from Amazon.
6 weeks later and I return home, possibly prouder to be finishing my kitchen than I am for a successful Covid-time tour.
Every single one of the hinges I’d bought is wrong. It’s starting to feel like some kind of cosmic joke. We desperately try to slot them in any way we can, getting more hysterical with every failed hinge.
Next plan - order from Ikea UK. Beg my long-suffering parents to collect them for me.
Ikea have discontinued the cupboards in the UK. And in Spain. No hinges anywhere.
It feels personal now. Hours of scouring the internet later and I FIND SOME. In German IKEA. At a cost of £24 for two hinges plus £40+ postage.
By this point I’ve got quite used to my open-plan cupboard and the thought of spending nearly £70 on a damn pair of hinges is almost enough to unhinge me (see what I did there?).
It’s rare that I give up on anything - normally I’ll keep going until the bitter end - but this has me beaten. The cupboard door quietly gathers dust in a corner, and everybody diverts their eyes when looking at the cupboard. It seems easier that way.
Gomera has changed me. It’s activated my DIY senses and I can stare for hours at cupboards with unbridled lust, desperate for the two missing pieces to complete the kitchen of my dreams. I’ve certainly learnt why Loly took the hinges from my old kitchen all those months ago.