Tag Archives: decorating

overnight #1

The caravan site is about 10 mins drive from the shop.

It is isolated, and surprisingly empty.

This is good.

The big plates don’t fit in the cupboard.

Girls will fall out of the single beds.

The sleeping bags are great fun.

We must remember towels.

And pillows.

That smelly thing isn’t a candle- it’s for an oil burner.

The TV works perfectly well.

Everything works perfectly well.

Hangers would be useful.

It is possible to forget both the book and the Kindle.

One can be saved from the worthiness of the newspaper by remembering the iphone Kindle app, previously downloaded. Happily, with ‘books’ on.

Caravan Man doesn’t like to talk about anything as crude as money. It takes a while to talk round these necessities- the not saying and the saying of equal importance- even when handing him an envelope stuffed with cash.

It is possible for Spurs Fan to relax and just do nothing. For a limited time; early days yet.

I want to paint everything white.

We need new curtains.

Time on the beach is more important.

letting them win

The campaign starts earlier every year. It’s coordinated and timed carefully. They know just how much it takes to wear me down. They’re good at this game. Their secret weapon is that I do actually like getting out the decorations, singing along to silly music, and seeing the finished article. Yes, my family know me too well.

The Christmas tree is up. Sooner than I’d said it would be.

Apparently there's more to it than this
there are boxes to be unpacked, chaos to be created
elderly decorations
newer, supermarket, decorations
none of it what you could call 'themed'
There'll always be some Santas
and a fat, frizzy angel

Mind you, it won’t be going up any earlier next year. We’ll rehearse the same arguements and put it up at around the same time. It’s all about the ritual, don’t you know?

comfort

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When I’m not sleeping, playing on the computer, or being a domestic goddess/parenting guru rolled into one, I’m here. At the end of the sofa.

Beside the books, photos and fire. There’s a footstool for the aching limbs and any amount of cushions for the dodgy back. There’s a stool, masquerading as a side table, to hold a remote control, glass of water/wine and whatever sticky mess my nearest and dearest have left for me.

Comfort. Home.

Weekly photochallenge: comfort