Normally quite passive, no-one was more suprised than myself when this weekend I became so incensed that I was compelled to write my first ever letter of complaint and to boycott the local supermarket. I even managed to pull out of the bag a bona-fide tantrum that would have left both kids wide eyed and open mouthed had they seen it. They have taught me well. Thankfully I fell short of crying and stamping my feet.
I would love to say that my anger was over something of importance. Child labour, the raw deal farmers receive from supermarket chains or even animal welfare. Nope. They refused to sell me alcohol because I didn’t have any ID. In my defence I would like to point out that I’d had the most awful day with tantruming kids (spot a theme here?) and that I’m 37 years old. Retrospectively I know I should have been delighted that the woman on check-out thought I was under 25 -SERIOUSLY!?- but when her supervisor and then the store manager said it was worth more than their licence to serve me I failed to take the moment to bask in the compliment.
I did threaten never to darken their door again; but I am very particular about my sausages of all things and their luxury own brand Lincolnshire sausages are not only lower in fat, but have 90% meat content. Is this what my life has come to? comparing fat and meat content of all supermarket sausages? I doubt I’ll get round to writing that letter of complaint either.
On a positive note, I have been craking on with my coursework. Losing several hours on Pinterest creating colour libraries and collating hundreds of inspirational images.
It would appear we have another trainee collector in the household. It’s no surprise given the parentage. D has the biggest collection of CDs, DVDs and books I know of, whilst I could set up a specialist newsagents with the amount of interiors magazines I possess. One cannot comment on the others’ increasing stash without much tutting and accusations of colour and kitchen accoutrements. H, however has yet to hone her curating skills. There appears to be little or no reason for what she randomly squirrels in the most obscure of places. Listed below is what I retrieved from her junior bed the other morning, deep breath:
2x blankets; 13x teddies; 3x dolls; 2x books; 1x drawing; 1x colouring book; 1x pair of leggings; 1x pair pjs; 1x bag, 1x cd; 1x rubber egg; 2x lip balms; 2x necklaces; 2x plastic frogs; 1x bracelet; 1x pretend lipstick; 1x real lipstick(?); 1x notepad; 4x links of christmas paper chain; 1x string of sequence; 2x bobbles; 2x hairclips; 1x rubber; money; magnifying glass; piece of spirograph and an assortment of stickers. Phew.
Quite clearly all this was required to help her sleep. Documenting what she has hoarded under the bed would take too long and quite frankly I can’t bring myself to look.
However all our stuff has to live somewhere. Now, whilst I love to salvage furniture from junk yards I simply couldn’t fill the house with enough furniture and shelf space to accommodate our burgeoning collections. Nor could I afford expensive designer systems. Nope, there is nothing quite like mass produced Scandinavian furniture to swallow up a small library’s worth of books.
Some people look down their noses at flat packed furniture; I’m not one of them. That’s not to say our house looks like a page out of the latest IKEA catelogue; but I do reckon that some well considered pieces can work brilliantly alongside both antique and expensive designer pieces. What’s important is what you put on them and how you intergrate them into the room. When it comes to the kids I don’t think there is anything better to house their ever growing collection of books, stuff and general clutter. Whilst an ikea metal locker sits beautifully next to the custom made rustic sink unit in our bathroom (see below). There certainly is no denying the practicality, function and form that goes into their furniture design.
However, if money was no option, and space allowed, a custom built home library would be top of the list.