IT is with great regret that I have to announce we are getting a new kitchen. On top of university fees and future weddings, it means I will now have to work until I’m approximately 95.

In fact, it’s more than a new kitchen – it’s a new combined kitchen and dining room. They used to be two separate rooms but my wife decided to knock down the dividing wall this time last year, despite the fact that the new kitchen wasn’t scheduled until October this year.

“It’ll give us a chance to get used to the space,” she said when I came home from work to discover she’d had a builder in to knock a flaming big hole in the house.

When the Berlin Wall came down, there was clear justification for the sense of urgency. People were tired of waiting for the unification of East and West Germany, so they got out their hammers and got on with it.

However, it’s not so easy to understand the urgency of unifying the kitchen and dining room in our house by knocking down the Barron Wall.

“It’ll help us come up with ideas on how we want it all to look,” was my wife’s explanation.

Note the use of the word “we” even though she knows and I know that it’ll ultimately depend on how she wants it to look.

I tried arguing that there was no need to start the demolition process quite so early, but it was like talking to a brick wall.

Anyway, since the wall came down, we’ve looked at lots of kitchens. We’ve considered every colour you can imagine and weighed up the pros and cons of granite versus laminate. We’ve lurched from a stone floor to a wood floor, and I’ve looked at enough tiles to last me a lifetime. As for hobs, they could be my specialist subject on Mastermind.

The truth of the matter is that I’m happy to go along with my wife’sjudgement – because that’s been the secret of a marriage that’s lasted nearly 25 years. I learned very early on that her opinion counts much more than mine.

She can have the colour she wants, the hob she wants, the oven she wants, the worktops she wants, the tiles she wants, the cupboards she wants and the floor she wants.

There are only two requirements I have in all of this: a telly fixed to the wall above the “peninsula”; and an eye-level fridge.

The telly will give me the chance to watch the football, in close proximity to food, while my wife and daughter are watching things like America’s Next Top Model, Twilight and Take Me Out.

And the eye-level fridge is even more important. Now that I’m 50, and with three knee operations behind me, simple things like making a cup of tea have become an ordeal.

I have to kneel on the floor – one knee at a time – just to get the milk out of our old low-level fridge. I then have to ask one of the kids to help me up again.

It’s not very dignified and I can be there for hours if no one’s passing and the telly’s turned up loud in the lounge. An eye-level fridge will mean I can get my independence back.

The work is due to start in October.

Until then, I’ll be taking my tea black.

THE THINGS THEY SAY

OVER Sunday lunch, my wife asked our eldest what kind of cake he’d like for his forthcoming 22nd birthday.

“Ooh, I’d like white chocolate cheesecake,” interjected Max, 15.

“That’s what you want for your birthday,” replied my wife. “I was asking Chris.”

“Okay, sorry,” said Max before adding: “Chris – what sort of white chocolate cheesecake do you want for your birthday?”

AN anonymous letter has arrived, telling me about the following:

A NURSERY school teacher was desperately trying to stop the children in her class from using “baby words”.

“You need to use big people words,” she was always reminding them.

She then asked John what he’d done over the weekend.

“I went to visit my nana,” he replied.

“No, no, you went to visit your grandmother – use big people words,” the teacher insisted.

Then she asked Mitchell what he had done and he replied: “I went for a ride on a choo choo.”

“No, you went for a ride on a train,” she told him. “Use big people words.”

Finally, she asked Alex what he’d done. “I read a book, Miss,” he explained.

“That’s wonderful,” the teacher said. “What book did you read?”

Alex thought really hard, then puffed out his chest with great pride and declared: “Winnie The Shit.”