We moved home on Friday. This entailed me lifting four car loads of family life all on my own, resulting in a very bad back and neck this week. I think I overdid it. I ponder why simple things like moving house become a health issue after the age of 40. Not supple enough; and this from a yoga disciple.
Being home is glorious, dwelling in our own own-ness; my bed, my clothes, my house. Oh how I have missed it. Even the children are like pigs in mud. Note: any time you want to fall in love with your house again, spend two and half months in someone elses’ which is a quarter of the size. Works a treat.
I had a funny five minutes at the hairdressers and had way too much cut off during a ubiquitous trim. Now, after cultivating properly long hair for the last few years, I am perilously close to having in-between housewife hair. Quelle domage. Merde.
Lusting for weeks after the perfect winter coat, I finally found this one, which seemed to be a halfway house between crazy-luxe arctic versions and a their imitation counterparts.
The house we had been staying in had no full length mirrors. In fact it had hardly any mirrors at all. I did not see myself for weeks on end. Now I have been restored to myself in full glory I am thinking I need to start running again. Seriously. I swear seeing yourself naked is the biggest prompt for exercise ever.
We are about to have out new kitchen painted white and my husband is getting cold feet. Is there such a thing as too much white? White has been the answer to every decorating conundrum put to me, ever. I don’t want to sway, I want white. But his doubts are giving me the heebie-jeebies. Similarly, when I took this print in to be framed, the framer asked: ‘talk me through this then, what is the appeal?’ I get that it’s not everyone’s cup of tea but to me it represents everything about modern life. Balance is all. Plus the expression reminds me of my own boy.