My New House … Or, my random crappiness which will soon become a home.
With these pictures you get a sense of … well, nothing really. The bookcase is a lot bigger than that. The bracelet on the bed is not such a bright pink. The cables in the living room have now been tidied away and the curtains are now the proud owners of tie-backs. Posh? Me? Oh, yes. The Eastern European toilet signages almost got left behind at the flat. And the fridge mocks me with Czech magnets that make no sense, thrills me with naughty poems and fills my heart to the brim with letters of love from nephews.
It’s not quite home yet. It’s getting there. But not quite yet. Bedroom furniture would help. Damn bloody suitcases.
This morning I did the yuckiest thing I’ve ever had to do. We have three bins. One is for recyclable goods, one is for garden wastage and food [which must be wrapped in newspaper if cooked, folks] and the third is for rubbish that will just end up at the landfill site. The bin for garden wastage was full of normal rubbish when we arrived. It’s a job I’ve been putting off. And off. And off. But today I realised that I couldn’t put it off any longer and would need to transfer it to the other bin. If only because I need somewhere to put the weeds, of which there are many.
I’ve never seen such mouldy cheese. Ever. Or mouldy yoghurt. And I didn’t know that tea-bags can go green. And I know that the previous owner used Soft & Gentle deodorant and didn’t much like some bizarre grey garment. Oh, and she ate tinned ham.
I should have taken a photo for you all.
Oh, yay! for Norwich going down to the First Division.
please God bless the mouldy cheese and my boobies which really hurt xxx Elsabeth