Merry Christmas

Friday December 24, 2004

My main Christmas present and, privately, the most important to me, was unveiled early. The master bedroom is complete, furnished, decorated, ready to be re-inhabited. Cool, uncluttered, and deliciously fresh and restful. I suspect that a good deal of my wonky sleep pattern problem will be set to rights from now. I’m convinced it was the dizzy wallpaper got to me.


Stickford, Apr,'04
Master bedroom, before
on moving-in day


This is the room that Graham’s been quietly making over this past week and a bit, while bopping away to a succession of CDs ranging from Sheryl Crow, through ABBA, David Bowie, Marc Bolan and, today, Pink Floyd. Then it went all quiet, pictures were positioned, curtains re-hung, and lighting applied.

“You can come and have a look now,” he called.

I toddled along, fast as I could go.

“Oh, wow!”

Not much else you can say, really, when your bedroom has been magically transformed. My nightstand was set with my clock radio, my emergency flashlight for night-time excursions, and a drink mat, all ready for use.

“What do you think?”

“I think it’s georgeous. You’re a hard-working and industrious little person. And clever with it.”

“Thank you. We could have lunch now if you like.”

“Good. Then I can baptise my new corner with an afternoon nap.”

Which is what I did, snuggling up neat as neat and sleeping restfully in the faint aroma of fresh new paint, Harry Cat wedged in at my shoulder and Dolly the Mega-Cat flopped somewhere in the general area of my feet. They seem to approve of the new bedroom, too.


Stickford, Dec,'04
Master bedroom, after
Detail: my night stand


Earlier in the day, while leafing through a stack of framed pictures, selecting a handful for the new bedroom, Graham came up with a bit of a shock. He held out a painting of flowers in a vase, one we bought in Brighton, back in our early days when we were building a collection.

“You can sell this on eBay if you like,” he said.

“You cannot be serious. You love that picture.”

“No. I did love this picture. Past tense. I seem to have grown out of it. Anyway, it’ll not fit here, and it won’t fit in London. Sell it, why don’t you? Otherwise it’ll have to go down the dump or into storage.”

“Well, if you’re sure. Can’t see it doing very well, mind you. Not to everyone’s taste.”

“Oh. Someone will give it a home.”

“Okey dokey. I’ll see what I can do.”

So I took photographs, wrote up a description, and put it up on eBay.

“What do you think of the item description page?” I asked.

“I’d buy it,” he said. “You’re getting good at this.”

“Why, thank you. Got any more pictures we’ll not want to keep?”

“I’ll look ’em out. After Christmas. We have to start Christmas now or we’ll never get going with it.”

“Suits me. Merry Christmas.”

“Back atcha.”


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