In grandma’s bed

I’m lying for the first time since I was eight in my grandmother’s bed after its epic journey here in terms of cost and time. From Jersey to London over something like twenty years, mostly via my uncle’s storage, more recently via Shurgard. Finally here, built and in use at long last.

My old bed is already in pieces in the stairwell, ready to get hauled to the dump tomorrow. I’m turning my attention to my old room next. Then to the living room. Then the corridor. I figured even though the carpet is horrible up the stairs and through th corridor, it is quite pleasant to paint the walls over disposable carpets, so wherever possible I’m going to continue doing walls first and carpet second.

I’m beginning to take ownership of my flat. This might sound odd considering I’ve lived here for over a decade, but it came to me basically free so I’ve never quite been able to get over the sense that it’s not earned or that it isn’t really mine. Like as if mum is gonna show up and say “what the hell have you done with my bedroom?” This process of putting my mark on it is helping me properly accept it as a place I’m allowed to be comfortable in. If this room is anything to go by it’ll be a haven expressing my eclectic taste and the wealth of strange and lovely things that seem to glom onto me as I stumble through life. The piles of random shit are occasionally yielding up pleasant items to display, or useful items to employ. But they are mostly just taking up space. I’m thinking another drive up to Tennant’s is in order before long.

Two more nights before the cat arrives, and in an incredible stroke of fortune a friend who lives very close to me happens to have been given an extra hoover, so I can replace my one which packed up and is also lying on the stairs ready to go. I’m expecting a fair amount of hair from the old pussycat. I’ve also cleared out Pickle’s lavatory area and all it needs now for full function is a litter tray which I think the catmum will be ordering on Amazon – she’s already got the carrier. It’s been a good day of excavation today.

I’ve got about three carloads for the dump tomorrow, and a little bag of wood from my old bed that I’m going to take to the woods in Spring and burn ritualistically. The bath is full of plastic bags. But today feels like progress. The living room is still chaos. But I’m starting to see how it’s all going to be possible…

Author: albarclay

This blog is a work of creative writing. Do not mistake it for truth. All opinions are mine and not that of my numerous employers.

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