Painting and Cushions

I think that the more time I spend on Tumblr, Ebay and in Liberty the more I want to move out. It's not that I don't love my family or we've had a huge argument or anything, I just have this want to move out and create a flat that is completely my own. I know that realistically I will be 38 before it is even possible for me to afford a flat, let alone paint it orange, but this girl can dream. Alot.

My flat would be exactly who I am, none of this neutral shit. There will be Lego and it won't be kept under the bed for small children only, oh no, there will be sculptures of an Ewok and a narwhal on the dinner table. I will eat off mix and match vintage plates and and drink from glass jars. I also like fairy lights and I don't have enough in my life right now, especially after Christmas. There will be record players and typewriters. There will be embroidered birds strung from the ceiling. There will be a huge canvas painting above the fire place, it will be of something beautiful like fire or heaven or aubergines. I want to collect vinyl and use the album covers as wallpaper. I want to make my own cushion covers. I like cushions.

I want to paint a Banksy piece on my staircase. If I could succesfully spray a wall I'd go into a carreer in it, but I struggle with hairspray cans. Struggle.

I'd also like a terrapin turtle, it's something about their skin that is infinitely beautiful. Stripes. In hindsight, I think I'm a fan of stripes. The White Stripes, yes. Racing stripes, yes. Tigers, yes. I reckon that covers it, I am a fan. I will not own a cat or dog, they do not belong in my flat of dreams, they might eat the sofas. I'm not into that.

In ways I hope my mum doesn't read this, she might move me into the shed at the end of the garden with ten thousand spiders. Please no, I won't paint the hallway, I promise I wont. I'm house trained now.