Tonight
– hooray, hooray! – the Badger finished making the wardrobe for my room. It is
marvelous and delightful. It has no doors, because I think doors get in the way.
Now
the room in question is six-and-a-half feet by nine feet n its dimensions; so,
not large. The challenge has been to accommodate my belongings and leave room
to write/sleep/read or just be, without feeling crowded or cluttered or
overwhelmed.
I’ve
tried various clothing permutations, and discovered that the truth is I do like
a variety of garment choices. As well as radical differences in weather – from
freezing cold to very hot at times, and the long stretches of wet wet wet,
there are other considerations. Sometimes I have to look smart (not ‘clever’ –
formal), sometimes ceremonial. Because of my floppy connective tissues, I
firmly favour stretchy, soft and yielding clothes – anything tailored or
resistant is too strong for me and makes me very tired, as do shoes made of any
with the softest leather/fabric and the most flexible soles. And a lot of the
time I am just at home being me, wearing the usual slob couture that suits the
occupation.
I
would like to prune my wardrobe somewhat, but am wary of dispensing with
garments I later wish I’d kept and want to replace, for so now I’m keeping this
lot as each item has its place and purpose.
Here
is my room now. The wardrobe Badger made – ta-da!!
In
case, like me, you wonder what the words are and the exact nature of things in
your friends’ rooms, here’s the laundry bag on my door in close-up. I’d hate
you to run away with the idea it just said ‘jealousy’ and ‘money’.
And
here is the rest of it.
My
floor bed under the window. My father had that tall candle-stick, but it was a
table lamp with a big shade when he had it. The Badger made my bedside table.
Our Hebe crocheted the blanket (you can only just see the corner), and the patchwork cushion made from old saris was hers.
The
view from where I sit. My father had the little wall shelves in his shed. The Badger had the tall shelves in his shed. I wrote some of those books on the shelves. Most of the rest are for praying and preaching.
Close-ups
for the nosy. Bernard, my husband who died, made the little cinnabar red
shelves, and Alice and Hebe painted them. The Badger made the seat/table beside
them.
The
wall I lean against. Our Alice crocheted that cushion. My friend Margery
painted the picture. The sconce is Scandinavian – Swedish, I think. I wrote the
lettering on the wall and our Hebe painted it for me.
The
sign that speaks into my life – ‘Set your house in order’ – that our Alice
painted for me.
