Domestic Goddess
In the last fortnight, post-Long-Awaited Purchase of Flat and moving in to it, my most meaningful relationship has been with several five-litre cans of Brilliant White Dulux paint, the one with the shaggy dog on the front.
I could write several essays on paintbrush-versus-roller methods of application, but will spare the world. He with whom I share my life is impressed, and slightly scared, at evidence of my uncharacteristic domesticity. Lots of references to Anne in the Famous Five keep being resurrected - the one who was always staying at home in the cave or goddamn treehouse or whatever, while Julian, Dick and Timmy the dog had adventures with smugglers.
Painting is curiously soothing. I have sung my way through The Phantom of the Opera, in which I am now alarmingly word-perfect - wonderful acoustic in the spare room, making my Christine Daae very coloratura indeed - and thought a lot about smut, and life in general, in that order.
My other new enthusiasm is - as we had no furniture until last week - auctions. I have always been sniffy about people who enjoy shopping, but I've discovered a guilty, deeply-buried love of the impulse-buy when a man with an unwise moustache is waxing eloquent about a Victorian station clock or a fifties chrome diner table with sprinkles baked into it and matching formica stools, or a pair of lamps shaped like the Flower Fairies. I had to sit on my bidding baton at one point.
No doubt I will eventually recover.
*waves paintbrush feebly*
I could write several essays on paintbrush-versus-roller methods of application, but will spare the world. He with whom I share my life is impressed, and slightly scared, at evidence of my uncharacteristic domesticity. Lots of references to Anne in the Famous Five keep being resurrected - the one who was always staying at home in the cave or goddamn treehouse or whatever, while Julian, Dick and Timmy the dog had adventures with smugglers.
Painting is curiously soothing. I have sung my way through The Phantom of the Opera, in which I am now alarmingly word-perfect - wonderful acoustic in the spare room, making my Christine Daae very coloratura indeed - and thought a lot about smut, and life in general, in that order.
My other new enthusiasm is - as we had no furniture until last week - auctions. I have always been sniffy about people who enjoy shopping, but I've discovered a guilty, deeply-buried love of the impulse-buy when a man with an unwise moustache is waxing eloquent about a Victorian station clock or a fifties chrome diner table with sprinkles baked into it and matching formica stools, or a pair of lamps shaped like the Flower Fairies. I had to sit on my bidding baton at one point.
No doubt I will eventually recover.
*waves paintbrush feebly*