Career Potential

Something wonderful has happened.

Long before I moved in to my flat, all the furniture, all the wall art, all the crockery, all the tea towels, etcetera, were already meticulously sourced and in many cases already purchased. I couldn't bear the idea of sitting on a folding chair many months after moving in, surrounded by bare walls, patiently accumulating ornaments and items of furniture which would eventually transform my house into a home. It was like starting off naked and being given the opportunity to build an entirely new wardrobe from scratch. Immensely personal, indefatigably fun, and a race against time - because who wants to stand around naked any longer than necessary? I don't regret my rush to have everything picked out in advance of my moving in. What I do regret is that I can no longer just pop into Habitat now and again to pick up a few colourful kitchen gee-gaws (my mother's term), as I have one of everything already and my kitchen is beginning to look like a box of crayons. I would describe the aesthetic of the living room as eclectic, teetering dangerously on the threshold of eccentric. The grey sofa is the one anchor of neutrality. When I'm tempted by beautiful homewares in blogs or magazines I have to remind myself that statement items would be drowned out in this place, even in my comparably serenely decorated bedroom which has already reached its quota of mismatched prints and ostentatious jewellery. And there is no more space. I don't mind that the flat is crowded and colourful, I just miss buying things for it.

Anyway, the wonderful thing is that I now have a job. A fabulous, creative, career-catalyst type job. Naturally, many of the personal and financial problems I was previously facing have now been obliterated, including, most generously, the one I've mentioned above. Because I have my own office. That means a whole new room full of bare walls and potential. The picture above is already hanging next to my desk, an oversized 80's mess of primary coloured squiggles, snaffled from a colleague's vacated office. The stationary possibilities are almost overwhelming. Already I find I am distracted by the dusty black in-trays that came with my desk, when this one from Habitat has vastly more retro charm. It's exciting to be on that quest again for decorative perfection. Although my eyes hurt when I think of the tray and the poster next to one another. So, for the sake of my sanity and of unsuspecting visitors, this time subtlety will be key. Let the challenge commence.