I want to invite you all to step into my wonder dream world. Also previously referenced to on the blog as my “non boring world here and here. In my non boring world/wonderland/dream world exists only beautiful good things. A nice comfy quiet cosy life. Good surroundings and people. Good light. That feeling when you are home and happy.
Which brings me onto this post and what it is all about. On a busy Saturday afternoon a month or so back, I boarded a flight to go for a much needed visit home. I was crammed on a ryanair flight sat next to two french girls. Who-did-not-stop-talking. Excited to have a play with my new camera and read my kindle the flight went smoothly and quickly. I can’t describe that feeling, I do not have the vocabulary to put it into words, how it feels to start descending and seeing all the patchwork fields and muted greys and greens below. It feels so nostalgic and comforting and that feeling that I know I am home. Upon landing I popped into a newsagents and stocked up on Ribena, Gingerbeer and crisps (British delicacies) and went to catch my bus to London. The bus took us on the motorway that cut through beautiful fields and scenery. Arriving into London has to be one of my favourite things ever ever. We drove through Bow and Walthamstow and getting deeper and deeper into London arriving to London Liverpool St. I have said it before and I will say it again. London is truly the most beautiful city in the world. Old and new and historical and archaic in all the shades of grey. Holding on for dear life to its character that makes London, London. So ugly and beautiful at the same time.
After stepping off the bus at Liverpool St I tried to navigate the tube alone with a suitcase and bag. In what scared me at first ended up feeling really good to go it alone andwas like an adventure. I met my sister at my destination and it was so good to see her. We drove in the car to THE FLAT. I write that with capital letters as that is what this whole rambling blog post is dedicated too. THE FLAT of dreams.
I dream often about having a place of my own, back home. I dream how it would be and what the light would be like and how the décor would be. I dream about how it feels to be in a space that feels like mine and how a home should be. As we stepped in the front door and climbed the stairs to the flat it just felt so right and at home. I took a deep breath and took in my surroundings. It was perfect. A kitchen that can fit more than two people, a bedroom in the eaves, a fire place and a comfy velvet sofa, a full sized bath, pink kitchen cabinets, a terrace, stairs inside, wooden floors, vases of flowers, freshly baked bread, large windows, the view, the brick, Kensington, dove grey paint, pots and pans hanging, open kitchen shelves, small little trinkets, miss matched furniture (see table and chairs and arm chairs), good rugs….
The list goes on and on. I felt like home and dream even more to have a place to call my own. One day.