Creeting St Peter: The European Union comes to help

I find myself, temporarily, in a house without a kitchen. This is, of course, quite deliberate, but nonetheless, I am having to camp out in our utility room for a few days.

Thanks to Paul, and his team of contractors, the situation is likely to be temporary. In the process, I am receiving a demonstration in why the right to work anywhere within the European Union has its advantages.

You see, Paul, our kitchen designer and project manager, is Polish. He's been here for a few years, and was recommended by one of Ros's colleagues. Until he came onto the scene, we had been looking to find someone without much luck. Either they weren't very convincing, or they were eye-wateringly expensive - the local firm doesn't actually have prices, presumably on the basis that, if you have to ask, you probably can't afford them.

Paul, on the other hand, came to the house, took some measurements, talked to Ros - I was there, but I don't have a very good eye for design and Ros is better in the kitchen than I am - and went away to talk to his wife, who does the artistic stuff. A few days later, some diagrams were e-mailed over with a quote for the cost of the cabinets, removal of old kitchen and installation of the new ones.

We were impressed, so we hired him. Over the following weeks, a decorator (Radek), an electrician (Brian) and a flooring guy (Nigel) came over to take measurements and ask questions, whilst we picked out a cooker, a dishwasher and wall tiles (amongst other things). It isn't easy. Ros is incredibly busy at the moment, and I'm uncomfortable about making decisions in her absence, but we've got to the point where work has started.

Tonight, as a treat to myself, I ordered pizza to be delivered. Yes, I used a national brand - I'm a bit dull like that - and waited for it to arrive. About half an hour later, the phone rang, and an accented voice admitted that he couldn't find the house. In fairness, that's fairly common, so I ventured out into The Lane and flagged him down. Mario, for that was his name, was on his first day, and is Hungarian. So, instead of being mildly irritated, I tipped him and thanked him for delivering a hot pizza.

So, Poles and Hungarians in mid-Suffolk. There they are, coming here, working hard and providing a service. Add in the Romanians working at the care home in Baylham and you can see that, even in rural areas, the service sector is increasingly dependent on migrant workers.

It's hard to imagine our underemployed young people heading somewhere else in search of work, or being willing to do such jobs. I wonder if UKIP members have noticed that?...