The Real Thing 16

The house kitchen was a big square room with a bow window on the huge beautiful messy garden. Looking outside was looking at every possible shades of green.
Inside, all was green too, and brown, and grey, and yellow.
A kitchen with plastic floor on one side of the room, and a living area on the other side, with a blue-grey carpet, a few comfy armchairs and a table that I was the only one to use.

It was a pain to heat, and often smelled of greasy sausages.