playing house

We got the keys to our new place yesterday.

Cold, hard keys that open doors dude.

We have a blue door. Like in Notting Hill (Except the door is now not blue)

Simply delightful. We poked around our new place yesterday, wondering whether we should've bought an airbed and a bottle of champagne for the occasion.

The Brit was looking at things like the plug sockets, cabling and the interior of the oven.

I was looking at things like the curtain railings, the area in the bathroom where I can put an ostentatiously-sized mirror and the mantelpiece over the fireplace.

It's our first home! And it needs a fair bit of work.

We went to the DIY palace on Sunday, to buy glamorous things like rollers, dust sheets and paint. Never before have I been so excited to buy Man Stuff.

I was just short of buying safety goggles and overalls, but thought better of it.

What I did get was some purple spray paint.

I've been carting around an old antique chair with me for years. For seven quid, a chair can go from this:

To this:

If you ask me, it's a pretty handsome chair now. Sure, it looks like it's a throne for the Ribena Posterboy, but I think it's the sexy darndest chair in the ghetto.
(Oh hi! How excited are we to move out of the hood? Jesus, there's a pack of kids that run around intimidating the neighbourhood with obscenities and, I suppose, crack, and I have never been more afraid of ten year old children in my life.)

Oh and my Dutch chairs arrived. Thanks to my friend pretending to be the mafia and putting in a well timed call.

The excitement far outweighs anything else right now.

PS: Errrr....hang on. The world is meant to be ending this Saturday?