I'm happy if I can pay the rent for my little flat...

^^^

Big fan of those, 1966

Last edited by 1966 (2010-04-18 06:24:54)

Mine's a disaster, nothing like I planned. Half minimalist bauhaus the rest chintz the missus has installed. Truly awful. I've got a post-modernist living room with the most ornate chandelier imaginable. Then you get two young kids and you can't do anything until they get a good deal older.

Also that shit they tell you when you're a kid about not getting a big house because its expensive to heat, etc. Well, its all fucking true, except its even worse, the missus is on at you about buying a new Giant vibrator, the double glazing is leaking, your mega b&w sepia toned photos you took yourself and paint stakingly developed; the missus won't let you put up.

Then there's the garden, yet more time you have to spend nurturing it, because the missus, despite pretence at the time of buying the monstrosity, to being an avid gardener and rose fancier, isn't capable of it.

I find all that DIY, interior decorating and getting the house in order a vexation to relaxing and listening to 'Trane. Chet Baker wasn't intended to be listened to whilst wallpapering or tiling the bathroom. And besides there's professionals for that.

And wasn't I meant to be writing poetry and getting pissed whilst contemplating the great themes of the day?

All that money wasted on maintenance and getting the house right, seems so unfair. Why can't it just be right from day one.

In Paris - A sub-Beaux-Arts top floor flat in a backstreet. Surrounded by clean new modern functional buildings...

In Bristol - All the hell of life in 1763 with a Victorian Giant vibrator & a Deco bathroom added on.

- I'm very happy.

I've lived in all sorts, me...

Edwardian Mansion Blocks, Victorian Cottages, Deco flats, a tiny Cotswold Manor House... 'Orrible places, all of them.

Wherever I am I tend to furnish my places with the pile of crap I've picked up over the years, mainly by accident & by being pissed down the shops...

An 1820's Honeyed Oak Tea Table and an Eames chair.

Some Imari pots mixed with stuff from Bernard Leach.

A jumble sale.

^Yes, sounds about right. I feel like I've been consumed, like that episode of Tales of the Unexpected when the vicar went mad in later life because his mother had showed him a new born rabbit who instead of having the after birth licked off by its mother was in fact being eaten.  Some of those Tales were pretty disturbing and along with Hammer House of Horror have haunted me on odd occasions over the years.

Women in general cause more trouble then men. Particulary in work environments - if you get a bad one, they're several layers more twistedly sinister and sociopathically sneaky then men. They're also capable of illiciting special treatment whilst feigning they want to be treated equally.

Sounds mysgonistic, but its the truth.

^You're a Scot?