It’s been a day of getting back into the swing of things.
Piles of random tat adorn the various pieces of furniture in my flat – the dining table is a mess of CD cases, worksheets, lipbalm tins, postcards, candles, the armchair overflows with scarves and jumpers, thrown there higgledypiggeldy as I drop them en route to something more fun or pressing.
On the dresser, next to the candle that smells of berries (0ne of the nicest smells in the world) and between the clock that P bought me and the snowglobe Jean gave me for confirmation is a pile of postcards and letters I wrote this morning, sat in my bright yellow room while the day outside was grey, damp, gloomy – England at its worst. Tomorrow these missives will wing their way to some of the people I love….but tonight they sit in the yellow-pink candlelight, potential.
On my nightstand, behind the picture of Emma and I dressed as fairies and the candles Amber gave me for my 25th, just next to the Galileo thermometer Hannah gave me for Christmas is a pile of books – at the top is A Guide To Elegance – I’ve skipped onto this after finishing ….Geisha as I had my afternoon tea.
The TV in the corner blew up earlier. No grand exit, just some sparks and a crackle. It sits, vacant, impotent, above the DVD player the OMW gave me (that machine’s still going strong) and with a pile of DVDs atop it.
And I sit on the floor, laptop in front of me, phone on one side, glass of tonic on the other. My wardrobe is in front of me, doors open. When I glance up I can see sparkly things, a red shawl, my Hallowe’en dress (Supergeek rules!), some creme brulee body cream and a postcard saying ‘Frankly My Dear, I Don’t Give A Damn’. My PJs are my favourite pair, pinked checked and voluminous; my hair is coiled in pincurls on my head.
That’s about the shape of things here.
How are you guys this evening?