Forever House

In the corner of my bedroom at home in my parents house is a pile of... well. It depends how you look at it. Organisation? Madness?

The pile started in December. I was stood in Anthropolgie in Edinburgh. I was looking at some bowls. They were half price. They were matching but not matching. They were everything I'd ever wanted in bowls. But I couldn't realistically manage them on the train back up North, and anyway I had bowls. But I was meeting Dad for dinner. So I bought them and passed them to him at dinner to take home with him, with explicit instructions not to let Mum unwrap them to take a peek, because she's definitely nab them for their kitchen. "I can use them in my forever house, I'll need bowls there" I said.

And so it began. I got a few home related Christmas gifts, so instead of taking them back to uni with me, they joined the forever house bowls.

Any further impulse buys joined the pile too - just a couple since December.

And for now, that's the pile. It'll keep growing I'm sure, while it's waiting. Waiting for somewhere to go, waiting for a forever house. When I say forever house, I don't necessarily mean the next fifty years. Two, three years would do me, I'm not reaching for the moon. I'm just ready for a change, for a sense of permanency. I'm done with moving from student flat to student flat every twelve months. I'm ready for a carpet other than that weird mottled blue stuff that seems to be the choice of all landlords the world over. I want a bath as well as a shower, I want the furniture in my living room to match, and, more than anything, I want to be rid of a memory foam mattress.

At the minute the pile doesn't know where it's going to end up. It'll be moving somewhere in the summer. Last week it was moving to a forever house in Durham. Now, maybe Edinburgh, maybe Cambridge. Maybe even Durham in a different guise.

Who knows? Not I, not anyone. You'll just have to stay tuned to find out what happens to the pile.