A quick note to those of you who follow me on Twitter [and if you don’t, why not?]:
I promised you a post on the British Museum, which I visited for the first time yesterday. That post has not been forgotten nor neglected; I just need more time to write it and I wanted to get something out to you all today and post that write-up a little later, rather than leaving this blog empty for the day.
Everyone has one place which never changes. It’s almost like a base: a constant in a life of ever-changing thoughts, people and places. For some, it’s their home, whilst for others like myself, it’s a little more specific – a certain room, for instance. In my case, along with many others I’m sure, this place is my bedroom. For almost as long as I can remember, my room has stayed pretty much exactly the same. Sure, there has been the odd shift around, a new bed at one point long, long ago, but aside from that, my room has remained fairly unchanged for the eleven years I’ve called it mine.
* I used to have a different room, now my sister’s, until I was three *
This Tuesday, I’m getting a new bed. I’m very excited about this, but before you label me as a saddo, allow me to explain. For at least 8 years now, I’ve had a cabin bed. For those of you who don’t know what this is, it’s basically a bunkbed, but without the bottom bunk, providing useful space underneath the bed. The bed was about a metre-and-a-half up, allowing me to have my desk, a chair and my wardrobe underneath it – extremely space-efficient. There was, however, a flaw to this plan which revealed itself as the years went by: as I got taller, I started hitting my head.
Excuse me? No, that’s not why I’m so mad now. RUDE.
No, I started hitting my head on the bottom of the bunk when I got up from my chair, and as the bed was made of metal, frankly, it fucking hurt.
On Tuesday, therefore, i’m getting a ‘normal’ bed – in other words, not a cabin bed -, which will solve my problem re: head-hitting. This is very exciting and even more of a relief, as it removes the pain factor from my room – YAY!
Without sounding needy or self-pitying, my room is absolutely tiny. It’s actually half a room, the other half being my sister’s bedroom, divided off by a partitioning wall with a gap that serves as a doorway [without the door]. Due to this, the addition of a proper bed has introduced some logistical issues, i.e it won’t bloody fit. Due to this, I’m having to rearrange my room, and then say goodbye to a lovely wooden chest of drawers, which has served me well for years.
The furnature has been moved around now, and my old bed has been disposed of; I’m sleeping on a matress on the floor for the next couple of nights. All of a sudden, my room feels somewhow different, like it’s no longer that constant that it has always been for me. Even though I started this room-makeover stone rolling, I almoss feel like I’m not actually in my room any more, like this is somewhere else, somewere new. At the same time, I still feel safe here, and it still feels like it’s mine, however different it may be.
Yes, I’m writing my blog post now against a different wall, but it’s the same desk.
Yes, my speaker is now in a diferent place, but it’s the same music.
Yes, it’s all different, but it’s still my room.