Throughout my childhood and into my teenage years I gathered many fond memories of my grandmother’s kitchen. Not only is this were food was prepared but also where we would eat our meals, sit to drink cups of tea, chat and catch up on each other’s lives. She often used to bake treats for the family for no other reason than it was a Thursday and she was coming to visit us. Tragically, she passed away when I was 18 years old. Much of the crockery and kitchen utensils she had owned came into my possession as I prepared to move away from home to start my degree. These objects, which in themselves are quite ordinary, have transformed the simple process of cooking for myself into an activity of sentimental value allowing me to maintain an almost physical connection with my grandmother.