I have a dream. Well, I had a dream. It wasn’t an outrageous dream. my dreams are never really unachievable, otherwise I’d always feel like the world was dangling something just beyond my reach, and get the feeling that life is unfair (much as the Girl’s dad does – he always feels like life owes him something, and that it should all be handed to him on a plate.)
Anyway – this wasn’t about him, this was about me. and my silly little dream.
Well, since The Man has been out of work (almost 3 years), I’ve not really had any time at home on my own. Either he, The Girl or both of them have always been there. So I feel like I don’t have any space. We live in a little flat in London, so you can imagine that space isn’t exactly abundant…we’re all hoarders too, which I know we could do something about, but is a personality trait I guess, and almost impossible to shake.
The Girl has her own room that she spends a lot of time in doing her own thing (which lately seems to consist of counting her money in her money box 4 times a day – maybe she thinks we’re stealing from her!), and obviously The Man is here by himself from 9-3 every weekday. For me, nothing. And I think that this could be one of the reasons that I’ve stopped reading as much over the past couple of years too. I can’t read when there’s stuff going on around me. I’m OK with the radio on, or music, but not the TV or ‘sounds’. And The Man has the TV on a lot – because, if I turn it off, or if I’m not watching it, even if I have the radio on, he’ll play the XBox. which annoys the hell out of ma. i can’t read a story about Georgian Britain’s Worst Husband (Wedlock, that I’m reading now) if there are the sounds of air raids, bombs, and general shouting, shooting and fighting in the form of MW2 full blast to my left!!
So. I had a dream. It was a chair. A winged, chintzy, Queen Anne style chair. Squeezed into my tiny bedroom, in the bay window which has the best natural light in the whole flat. So I could shut myself away for a few hours a week, have some me time, read undisturbed with the radio on. Maybe even start writing again, who knows. If course, a chintzy winged chair in a bay window also threw up dreams of tea and biscuits and a cat curled up.
So…I have now made this entry from my bay window, in natural light, in a wing-backed chair, whilst listening to 6Music (Cerys is back, and there was just a wonderful live session with a harp that I need to look up), sipping tea, eating the biscuits that I made on Friday, and have been reading my book in peace. Even the cat is curled up on the bed in front of me! The only difference to my dream is that my chair isn’t chintzy…it’s just moss green. but it’s oh so comfy, and was just £35 from the sally army charity shop at the bottom of my road – and is pristene. no wear, no tear, no scratches, no stains!
I am so happy. So, so happy. Because of a chair.