A vast amount of my time in the last few days has been spent dipping into my favourite magazines (Country Living…don’t judge me) and dreaming up my perfect French romance cum Scandinavian style house. Whether it be a picture of a beautifully upholstered chair, a photo in the garden of an effortless picnic for family and friends -always complete with one of those picnic baskets with the plates, cutlery and glasses strapped into the inside lid- or an exquisite, shabby-chic dresser displaying an array of mismatch vintage plates, I want it. After a few months of pouring over the magazine and mentally designing my future home, I begin the cutting-out process and destroy the magazine, leaving gaps where the above items were once photographed.
As well as my coffee addiction, I am not ashamed to admit that I also have a notebook addiction. A shiny, new blank notebook leaves itself open to a whole range of possibilities; maybe it will become my new day-to-day diary, a travel diary, a place for some sketches, a new home for all my Country living clippings…
Unfortunately, I usually can’t bring myself to start using the new notebook, because once the first few pages have been filled with something, it will no longer be new. So now I have a pile of sparkling untouched notebooks and piles of magazine clippings. What a pickle!
Life lessons learnt: It does sound as if I have a problem, but at least I am not in denial; it could be worse.