Home, sweet.


Now I make this look as if it has anything to do with me that we in a few days time will move in to our own rented little basement, which it clearly has not, except from the few hours I spent painting whilst Nigel took a snap of it. But that doesn’t make me feel like I haven’t sweated as much as N regarding this little residential dilemma, oh no, I’ve clearly spent as much, if not more energy on this little issue of ours, though it’s been on an emotional level rather than physical. Well well, we all use different strategies. The point is, we’re soon there, we’ll have OUR OWN TOILET AND FRIDGE, and we can almost lock the door so none but us can come in!!!!!!! This must have been like the first peeps going from long drop to running water felt, luxuary beyond comprehension! And they obviously got use to it, and their children thought it was lame and got tired of their stories about “when mum and dad where young” but this, my friends, this is a milestone in the Swift family memoirs. We’ve shared hosing 50% of our married life, which have been with lovely people, but hey, none has died of some privacy every now and then, so we’re very much looking forward to this new single-couple-lifestyle.

Ps. Prayers needed for our gorgeous second hand sofa we found on Saturday to fit though the door, it was a buy made in affect and hope rather than reason.



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