Wednesday, October 7, 2015

trotting away

I came to terms with something today: that renting someone else's fully furnished house (very fully furnished, very lived-in house) is perhaps not the wisest thing to have done.  It's not easy to feel as though one has, or can make, an identity of one's own when one's living with someone else's taste, mementos, bits and pieces.  So I've broken my lease (let's hope she can find a replacement tenant, or this will be very expensive), and will go a-hunting for some place else ...

It struck me that I haven't lived in rented furnished accommodation since 1979 (and that had, I swear, some pretty much identical furniture) - but even then, one could make some kind of [pause to kill v small cockroach] dent in the decor by wielding a paintbrush (Linda - if you're reading this, I fully acknowledge that painting that very small room at 244 Abingdon Road a horrible green was a big mistake, but not as big a mistake as painting the oven door, too.  But then, Mr K was never going to come round and see what we were doing there ...).

So - it will be farewell to the Russian, or maybe Finnish horses on the kitchen windowsill.  I'm proud of my own decisiveness ...

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