This is how the floor looks in our kitchen. It�s� unique. There are tiny scratches all over each and every tile, and a few chips as well, so the floor constantly looks dirty even when it�s clean.

The tiled splashbacks. Oddly enough, they�re kind of cool because so much time has elapsed since they were originally installed (about 25-30 years ago, I would assume) that they could now be passed off as �retro� and hence, ironically, �ultra-modern�. However, I have no intention of designing my new kitchen around out-of-date tiles that are trying to fall off the walls, and therefore they must go.

The wood-look laminate doors, the upper cabinets of which are actually leaning out of the walls on one side of the room (not in the shot). Oh, and the wall-mounted oven, which is identical to the one I grew up with and even makes the same metallic squeaking noise when you open the door. It�s just a shame that I didn�t take a close-up of the kitchen bench. You can�t really see it in this photo but it�s actually a green marbled effect, not the almost elegant grey it appears in this shot.

Daniel proving that this beast of a kitchen really is alive, half a second before he said, �did you just take a photo of me?� (I�m a bit of a guerrilla photographer when it comes to Daniel. You�ve got to catch him in his natural habitat.) I�ve played with the contrast so that you can still see him but he isn�t *quite* so recognisable. I�m sure I�ll get over doing this soon enough. Whilst playing with the contrast, I discovered that in the right light Daniel looks like Woody from Toy Story - especially since in this shot he�s wearing his one and only chequered shirt. I didn�t post the Woody version though.

My caramel slice, as created in the Jurassic oven shown in an earlier photo.

I thought I�d add this shot because it shows the sexy saloon doors* that lead into our kitchen. Daniel took this shot while he was leafing through the camera�s instruction manual. He didn�t point it at anything in particular; he just waved the camera around at random and pressed the button, barely looking up from the booklet. The black scribble is there to cover what you can see of my face, first thing in the morning.

*Actually the saloon doors weren�t up when we first moved in, but I found them in a spare closet and thought they were hilarious so I put them up while Daniel was out one day. They�ve been there for nearly 6 months now.

One thing that bothers me slightly about this new camera is the software. I find it a little patronising, because personally I would like to just plug the camera into the computer and then open it up as a folder like you would with any other removable disk. Sadly this isn�t an option, as the camera can only be accessed through the software and not through My Computer.

I guess I�ll just have to get used to thinking differently. In a way it�s good because it gives you a preview of every image in your camera, not just the one selected, so it�s much easier to find the photos you want to transfer. Plus the �album� opens up like a normal folder once you work out where it is, so you can still open up the images in Photoshop for editing, cropping etc. Really my biggest issue is that I just don�t like being patronised.

But I do like sharing images of my kitchen, so I suppose it all balances out. By the way, the kitchen is the most tragically dated room in our place � our loungeroom is actually looking increasingly modern. I guess that�s going to have to be my next subject of photography.

I just got a call from Daniel. Several weeks ago we sent a cheque to the owner of Pat�s Patch, the caravan park in Jindabyne where we have our little hidey-hole for winter use. For ages we made sure that there was enough money in the account, and we assumed that the cheque had already been cashed. So we let the funds get a bit lower.

This was na�ve because we�ve experienced this guy�s idea of efficiency before, and really should have known better. He only just tried to cash the damn thing a couple of days ago, when the funds in our account were low, and now we�ve been hit with a dishonour fee. It�s our fault, of course, but it�s sorely tempting to blame it on somebody else�s inefficiency. It always is.

It�s just money, I suppose. We�ll just think of it as another bill. And another lesson, though quite frankly I�m getting a bit tired of those this week.