the secret diary of a memory hoarder;
Of course, with the benefit of hindsight, I was never going to be able to stick to Apartment Therapy’s August “Style Cure” given that I was on holiday for much of the planning stage. I love the concept though: every day for a month you’ll receive an email containing a simple task to help you plan, style and celebrate the makeover of one room in your house. It’s a programme the site also ran in January, which I think was when I initially signed up (I failed then too, admittedly) – so if they repeat it in the new year, maybe I’ll have better luck then.
I’m trying not to beat myself up about it – the way I live my life, it’s no surprise that things often get in the way – but I told myself that things were going to be different in our no-longer-quite-so-new home. Although we lived in Monkey Towers for six years the place never really felt like ours in all that time, perhaps because it was full of furniture that we never picked for ourselves. Although we’re still renting, the flat we’re in now was unfurnished so everything in it is ours – and it also came with at least two hideous walls that you’d think would be all the encouragement one needs to redecorate. That and the red wine stain halfway up the kitchen wall. The broken bottle might have been my fault, or it might have been Scooter-cat’s; but it was that early in the morning it was never properly dealt with.
I feel like I’m ready to start – even if it’s just a case of planning, rather than actually doing anything right now, for money or time reasons – and that’s something I’m hoping to work on next week when Stringer is in the States on a Very Exciting Business Trip. The biggest problem I foresee is how small the new place is, even with its additional room: we’re not terrible hoarders, but the slightest mess looks awful. Our large collections of CDs, books and DVDs; my clothes and shoes and kitchen and bathroom storage call for innovative storage solutions, so that’s something to think about.
I have very little space in my wardrobes, and what floor space there is is currently occupied by large crates full of memories: old diaries, photo albums and newspapers I could get rid of if I had a better means of storing my cuttings. The internet has replaced my diaries and photo albums, as much a result of convenience as any enthusiastic embrace of newer technologies: much of the online journalling of my late teens and early 20s began on paper, and I kept all my photographs in albums like this neatly dated and annotated. Despite the lack of storage space I wish I still had the time to do this: it doesn’t feel the same looking back at your holiday snaps captured on Instagram, does it?
This post is sponsored by John Lewis. Funnily enough they had absolutely no hand in the above rambling.