So, after about four weeks of building work, I'm pleased to announce that our new-look bathroom is finally finished.
This is what it looked like before the wreckers came in and destroyed it all. Notice the lovely mould on the grout and ceilings!
For about five years I've been carting my book and umbrella -- all the stuff that doesn't fit in my little leather handbag -- in an A4-sized black bag that was a freebie with Marie Claire magazine. Recently I've been thinking it looks a little worse for wear; both handles are on the verge of splitting.
So yesterday when I walked past Accessorize and saw this bag in the window I didn't even think twice about buying it. Fortunately it was only £12.
I am now the proud owner of a chocolate-coloured Fair Trade cotton "shopper" that sits comfortably over the shoulder or can be held in the hand. It's a good size, more than capable of holding those bits and bobs I take on my commute, but also suitable to double up as a grocery bag should I decide to pick up a few pieces from the supermarket on my way home.
Perfect.
The walls have been painted Farrow & Ball tallow.
The ceiling, radiator and skirting board are eggshell white.
The door has been painted and a new chrome door handle put in place.
The mouldy built-in-robe has been demolished and a brand new one, built on a different wall, has been put in place.
New Berber-style cream-coloured 100 per cent wool carpet has been fitted.
And a new king-size bed with a chocolate leather headboard and a memory foam mattress has pride of place.
Yes, the bedroom has now been completely refurbished. It looks like a hotel room. And seems much more spacious now that the wardrobe is in a new position.
Unfortunately, because the entire room looks so fresh and new, our existing bedside tables, in whitewashed pine, look a little on the scruffy side. I've now ordered a new set in a chocolate coloured stain, along with a chest of drawers.
I'll post photographs when it's all in place. In the meantime, I cannot wait to sink into bed -- under my new summer-weight duvet (£8 from Primark!!) -- because I haven't had a proper night's sleep in three weeks! Zzzzzzz.
Place: Putney Bridge, Putney, south London.
Date: October 15, 2007.
Camera: Panasonic DMC-TZ3.
I don't go to Putney very often, although it's just a short bike ride away from where I live and it's certainly within walking distance if you don't mind strolling along the Thames Path -- with elbows at the ready so that you can push all those other annoying Sunday strollers out of the way.
Today I went by tube. Sedate and easy, except for the annoying change at Earls Court and the long walk over Putney Bridge to the High Street.
It was just after noon when I arrived. There's a good mix of shops here -- the usual British High Street stores, such as WH Smith, Boots, M&S, Superdrug and the like -- plus a lot of eateries and pubs. I was surprised to come across a BHS (British Home Stores) outlet, because I haven't seen one of them since they closed the Kensington High Street branch about eight years ago. I went in and promptly walked out again: lots of el-cheapo "bland wear" that even an elderly granny would probably turn her nose up at.
There's a good shopping centre -- the Exchange -- on the western side of the street, and it was here I found the reason for my venture south of the river: a branch of Next. I had hoped to purchase a suit for work and possibly a pair of casual trousers, but the range on offer was fairly limited. Typically the sizing was all over the place: this must be the only store where it is possible for a woman to buy two pairs of trousers that are two completely different sizes (a 12 and a 16), and two tops that are completely different sizes as well (14 and 16). The company has obviously never heard of standardised measurements.
It hasn't heard of customer service either, if this afternoon's experience was anything to go by. I was overloaded with seven different items to try on*, only to be told there was a limit of four -- despite there being no sign to advise this -- and I'd have to put the excess items back on the shelf myself! I was flustered enough as it was, juggling various bags (I'd bought some hefty stationary from WH Smith) and wasn't feeling particularly well (my throat playing up again and my eyes still itchy and sore), so when the salesman made a barely audible mumble in my direction trying to enforce this ridiculous rule, I confess that I got a tad grouchy with him. In the end, he let me into the changing room with all seven items, but made me feel like he was doing me the world's biggest favour**.
Later I soothed my rage with a trip to the bookshop next door and didn't even feel remotely guilty about spending £30-odd on things I don't really need. I hate clothes shopping with a passion, but I could spend the rest of my life buying books. I think this is because books never make you feel like you're being ripped off by shoddy workmanship. And books never, ever, make you feel fat. They're good for the brain and good for the soul.
When I left it was close to 3pm. I bought a freshly squeezed juice at a juice bar near the exit and then headed to M&S across the road for a few bits and pieces to take home to eat, before making my way back to the tube station on the other side of the river.
I have to say that Putney Bridge tube station is one of the nicest tube stations in London. It's one of those stations that comprises an elevated platform far above the rooftops, so you get a great view over the suburbs. The entire station is neat and tidy, and all the timber awnings are painted a very pretty cream and sage green. It reminded me a lot of some of the train stations in Melbourne, probably because the architecture looks colonial.
I didn't have long to wait for a train and I was back in the door almost five hours after I'd left the house. Not bad for an unplanned shopping excursion.
* London retailers need to learn a thing or two from their New York counterparts. In the Big Apple sales assistants relieve you of you any item as soon as they see you walking around with it. They'll introduce themselves before putting the item aside for you to collect when you are ready to either try on or buy. This is a wonderful service that allows you to browse at leisure without any of your upper limbs falling off.
** I'd understand the limit if the store was busy, but there was no one in the queue behind me and at least two vacant cubicles ahead of me.
I have the place to myself as T* has been kidnapped by four Australians in a grafitti-covered van, bound for the MotoGP in France.
Initially, I had planned to go to Oxford Street this morning to sort out two lots of passport photographs -- my Australian passport expires on May 20 and my British one follows suit next month -- but my eyes are still a little bloodshot from the conjunctivitis and I didn't fancy donning my spectacles** for the pictures. So I am at home, tossing up whether to brave my local Homebase to buy some plants for the front door (all current specimens, bar my lavender bush, are dead or close to dying) and collect a tile catalogue (for ensuing bathroom renovation) while I am at it. Or should I just laze around, catch up on some reading and watch my new boxed set of House (series 3)?
Decisions, decisions...
* I have never seen a four-star-and-above hotel man so excited by the prospect of camping in a field. I think it was the excuse to buy gadgets. He certainly amassed an impressive collection of wind-up battery-operated lights. Perhaps he's planning on doing a spot of interrogation while he's over there? (He's gonna kill me for writing this.)
** I wore my specs to work on Tuesday instead of my contact lenses. Most of my colleagues have never seen me wearing glasses before. The responses ranged from "hey, cool specs" to "wow, you look like a sexy office dominatrix with those". I have made a mental note to wear my specs in public more often.
... that I changed the design of this blog again?
Can you tell I get bored very easily, very quickly?
No wonder I have so many job changes on my CV.
Shock horror. Princess Diana was killed in a tragic car accident caused by dangerous driving.
An inquest, costing £10 million pounds of taxpayer's money and lasting six months, revealed that the princess's death was caused by the "gross negligence" of driver Henri Paul and the paparazzi.
Why did it take 10 years and so much money for this to become "official"?
Mohamed Al Fayed pushed for the inquest because he believed Diana and his son, Dodi, were killed as part of a state-sponsored murder plot. Personally, I think he should foot the bill. Honestly, the man is a fool, and he needs to come to terms with the fact that his son was killed in a car accident, not some murky conspiracy involving everyone from M15 to Tony Blair.
Typically, he emerged from court today making yet another stupid statement with no bearing in reality. "The most important thing is it is murder," he said.
Um, no, Mr Fayed, it was manslaughter.
Let's hope this whole over-the-top circus is now put to rest, and those that died can finally rest in peace.
At lunch time I visited a photographic exhibition at the Oxo Tower Gallery featuring the most jaw-dropping images by British landscape photographer David Noton.
Waiting for the Light: Photography Spanning the Globe showcases David's photographs from the past 25 years.
Everything from the Olgas in Australia to the Isle of Skye in Scotland is featured in this collection. I stood in front of many of these images and found myself transported to some of the most beautiful places on earth.
All the photographs were for sale, but I'm afraid that even if I could afford to part with a couple of hundred quid I would never be able to choose which one I wanted they were all so stunning.
The exhibition closes on April 6. You can find out more at the Oxo Tower gallery website
Place: Somewhere near the Tate Modern, London.
Date: April 1, 2008.
Camera: Panasonic DMC-TZ3.
London office workers got treated to a flypast by the Red Arrows at 1pm today in honour of the RAF's 90th birthday.
The flypast started just south of London City Airport, before passing The O2 Arena, Canary Wharf, Tower Bridge, the Tate Modern and the London Eye.
I was heading out to get a bite of lunch when I heard the roar of the engines high above me. I knew the planes were due to fly past, which is why I'd headed out for a look. But others were a little perplexed by the noise. You could see the stunned faces on pedestrians, heads craned skywards, trying to figure out what
was going on.
...it seems I acquired a brother-in-law on the weekend.
Yes, after possibly the world's longest engagement my sister and her fiance finally tied the knot on Saturday. Congratulations to them both.
(And I still remember the night they had their first kiss -- a winter's night in 1996 if memory serves me correctly! Shhhh, don't tell anyone.)
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