When you’re growing up your bedroom is your sanctuary. It’s where you play, where you do your homework, where you tell your little sister to piss off because she’s just there being annoying when you’re trying to be cool with your mates. It’s where the walls start off plain (or with Woofit wallpaper in my case) and then evolve through Care Bears and rainbows to Take That and then, almost overnight, you can’t see the walls through posters of Nirvana, Pulp and Beck until your A0 sized X-Files poster that cost £3.99 in Virgin Megastores on the weekend after your 14th birthday falls down and rips a hole in Mulder’s face (I cried when this happened) and so you fill the space with photos from disposable cameras of your friends and cat. Mostly the cat.
When you get an entire place of your own you don’t need your bedroom as a retreat. You have a whole home with lots of rooms to spread all your random crap around, and your bedroom becomes just that – the room with your bed in it. The place you spend a lot of time in, but doing anything special, just sleeping (or not, thanks to my neighbours who seemed to be having a pretty good time last night. I didn’t need to hear that.)
I was lying in bed the other morning, feeling very pleased that I didn’t have to go to work because it was Saturday, and started thinking about our bedroom. None of the furniture in it belongs to us (it’s a rental) so in order to personalise it we need “things”. We haven’t really put any things in the bedroom. We’ve got a big vintage granny blanket on the bed and a crocheted rug on the floor, and a mirror from my nan’s house on the wall but that’s it. No falling down X-Files poster, no fairy lights (I will remedy this), not even any pictures on the wall. I’ve got nice stripy bedding on at the moment (BHS) but otherwise there’s no personalisation to the room at all. Not even a radio. I should put a radio in there. It’s easier to wake up to a radio. I’ll get a radio.
I’d love our room to look like this, including cat:
I doubt Ant would like that room though. That’s the other thing about not having just your own room – you have to consider the person who shares the room with you! Not that I’d have everything pink but still! Also think I need some plants in there. I’ll have to do cuttings from Charlie, but I don’t want to kill him accidentally. I’ll practice on Charles II who lives on the fridge. He’s freaky already.
Lots of songs about rooms, but naturally I’ve picked Dinosaur Pile-Up to end this post.
This week I have loved…I haven’t done the April round up. I say it every month (because it’s true) – I am a terrible blogger. I tweet too much. Am I therefore a microblogger? I don’t know.
So it turns out that the majority of my photos last month were of the cats being cute and stuff I sold on eBay. I did find enough for a little round-up though.
I’ve been fighting with an unfamiliar washing machine today. Think I won. I hope I won. I will not be bested by white goods. It’s a little cold this weekend but the sun is out so I’ve actually hung the washing OUTSIDE! I know, right? It’s been years since I’ve put things outside to dry. It’s a novelty I am enjoying very much. Gotta love domesticity 🙂
Hello! We’ve now been in our little house for a week and today was an exciting day as the internet was turned on! Yay! Real internet and not just Twitter on my phone! To be honest I haven’t missed it as much as I thought I would have, probably because I’ve had a whole house of other things to concern myself with.
Sackboy is way less happy about his house than I am about mine. Silly Sackboy.
Everything is pretty much in it’s place now, just need to sort out the spare room really. I might do one of those “home tour” posts that the internet seems to love so much, but not ’til we have the new sofas.
Next post will be prettier, with all the March photos (again not daily, but I’ve taken more than 31 so I like to think that Project 365 will consist of 365 photos from the year as a whole. It’s my blog and I’ll twist projects as I see fit 🙂
I dislike change. I like familiarity. Sometimes though I get bored of the same things and want a complete change. Then I get scared and chicken out and the familiarity becomes comforting again.
So we’re moving home. I had a little freak out about it on Friday. Like properly screaming and crying to myself (well, to Pickle as no one else was home) and being utterly devastated to be leaving the flat. We love this place. It’s the first home we had together and we’ve been here nearly 4 years. But I want to move. I want to go to the lovely little house with all the alcoves and the lovely kitchen and beautiful bathroom with easy access to shops and coffee houses and other nice things. No one is forcing us to go, we don’t have to go. We want to go and we’re going. We’re leaving behind the nocturnal devil child that lives downstairs, and the leaky shower. We’re leaving behind the cupboard full of stuff in the kitchen that was already there when we moved in (heck, we’re adding to that cupboard!)Unlike the other times I’ve moved this time I’ve only really had a month to deal with it instead of about 3 months. That makes my head a fun place to be! We get a key for our new place next weekend to start moving stuff in before moving ourselves in over Easter. Oh my word, why do we have so much stuff?! Seriously, it’s not like hoarders or anything but so much irrelevant stuff! I haven’t even gone in the cupboard under the stairs, where the boxes are as they was when I moved from Thornhill to Penylan and then to here. I guess it just makes it easier to bin stuff off when it’s been in a box unused for nearly 5 years. Think I’ll need a trip to the tip. We have about 5 routers and cable boxes. Why??? Also enough USB and CAT-5 cables to reach the moon.
Yes, every time there is an open box you can almost guarantee that within minutes it will contain a Monty. He thinks he’s helping.
Another thing that’s changed is the cover design for The Simple Things. Gone is the lovely cover with simple things on that represent what’s inside and now there are people on it. It’s not an ugly cover by any stretch but it loses the essence of what the magazine is about. It’s not simple. People are far from simple. I don’t like people, I like things. The magazine itself is still absolutely delightful with lovely articles and of course I’m still a subscriber. It’s just not attractive on the outside (and with people on it will not be gracing my new coffee table in my new house, should I get a coffee table). I hope it was just a test and things will go back to how they were (and should be) for the next issue. A quick glance at Twitter is quite telling, I’m not the only one who feels this way.
I have a lot to get on with.
I’ll manage somehow.
Do you ever get that feeling where you look around at all your belongings and just think about throwing out the whole darn lot? I do. I think about it a lot. I don’t think I could ever do it, because I like things. I like my things, and as they are mine why should I get rid of them? Silly really. I do have a lot of stuff though. A lot of stuff that moved from my parents’ house, to my first house, to my second house, to my tiny flat (I did get rid of lots of stuff then, including a husband – ha! 🙂 ) and now to our duplex. Ok so not all of the stuff is mine now, but I still have a lot of random crap.
*remembers that she needs to feed Princess… goes to feed Princess…*
Princess still hates me.
Anyway, I wonder if a physical declutter will help my mind. I am a hoarder, but not in the sense of those people on the programmes. I don’t have a small path through mountains of things in my home. I have things and have good intentions of doing something with them – my endless craft supplies for example – and nothing ends up happening. Though I did make an autumn wreath with squirrels and acorns on. That actually happened. I also hoard thoughts. I remember most things going back to when I was very very small, and not just from photographs. Vicki once told a waitress that I was like Rain Man. She’s not far off. It’s this constant barrage of thoughts and memories that makes me come to a complete standstill sometimes – I just can’t concentrate.
I asked Ant last night what 5 things he’d save if there was a fire. We made the assumption that the cats and each other were already accounted for. He couldn’t think of anything. I said I’d take my external hard drive because it has all my photos on it from forever and my handbag (girls are clever see – we have everything we need in our handbags so this one item can often count for 20 things!). Even though I have so many lovely things I couldn’t think of a single other thing that I would save, nothing that couldn’t be replaced. My records maybe. I should get a big case for them so they’re easier to transport. There, see – in considering decluttering I just think of ways to store the things instead of rehoming them!
We’re almost certainly moving home in the new year (to a house, with 2 floors to hide all the things in!). I don’t want to move all the things again. I think a car boot is in order. That idea in itself is dangerous – sell my things, acquire other things! No. I must be strong. If I start decluttering then I must finish decluttering and not just get rid of 3 things and move all the other things around so they look different! Also this will mean that people will potentially give me money for the things. Money is good.
We’ll see anyway.
Now Playing:Some Nights by Fun.
I am not a tidy person. I am not a minimalist person. I like organised chaos. However I decided that tonight my house is just plain messy and it was about time it had a proper tidy-up. So I tidied up. A bit. I found my camera though so that made it worthwhile. I think it’s time to sort the house ready for Christmas, which does not mean decorate even though I did hang star lights on the bannister. I have star lights on one wall all year round though so it’s ok. They’re homely as opposed to festive. #excuses
I haven’t posted a decent picture of my blanket yet so here she is in all (well, half) her glory. She is twice this size –
Yup, I’m proud. She’s so lovely and cwtchy. Quite heavy and good for falling asleep on the sofa under.
I also finally put my nan’s mirror up. I brought it home months ago and at last it is hanging at the top of the stairs –
It’s a lovely convex mirror. I think it was my great-grandmother’s first as Mum says it was “from Nanny’s house” meaning her nan. Nanny Browning I suppose. Her name was Edith. You don’t get people called Edith now. Apart from Edith Bowman.
Monty observed my every move this evening. He wore his little blue scarf the whole time.