Domestic Bliss Comes with an Allen Key

I made a gigantic mistake yesterday.

On my drive home from the Gold Coast I popped into Ikea for what I was hoping some household retail therapy.

What a stressful experience!  The car park was full, you had to fight people for a wheelie trolley, people meander around aimlessly picking things up without really looking at them and it’s depressing that Ikea has a much nicer bedroom than yours.

Of course, it is really my own fault for going on a Sunday.  And I feel sorry for all the children and partners whose parents/spouses have dragged them along to domestic fantasy-land on their day off.

Ikea would have you believe that domestic bliss comes in a flat pack box accompanied with an Allen Key.  When in reality what you get is a man, roughly in his mid-late twenties/early thirties, carrying a yellow Ikea bag or pushing a trolley, saying “Yep that looks good”, “Really babe, whatever you want”.  When really he is grumbling to himself and thinking about how he would rather be at the pub. 

The whole place put me in a bad mood because I either could not afford, or didn’t have the space for what I wanted.  I did however leave with a pretty cool lap-top rest thing (which am typing on right now) and some flexible ice-cube trays.

And one day in the future, when I am a grown up, I shall take my unwitting boyfriend to Ikea and make him look at cushions, wardrobes and bedside tables.  But I’ll be sure to give him sexual favours afterwards.

Homesick For A Winter’s Christmas

I find it very bizarre that I can be feeling homesick for a place when I am currently living in the place I grew up.

I’ve mentioned before how much London feels like home to me, and now at Christmastime I am feeling the pang of longing for Old Blighty. 

There is something magical about London at Christmastime. Especially coming from a hot climate, finally having a cold Christmas was like something out of a fairytale.

Chestnuts really DO roast on open fires (well on BBQ style things on Oxford Street).  You can sing “I’m dreaming of a white Christmas” and there is the small chance that perhaps, just maybe, it might be.  The weather outside is frightful and the fires are delightful (as opposed to here, where the weather outside is frightful and the Air-Con is so delightful).

I’m missing the twinkly lights on Oxford and Regent Streets, the store fronts of Selfridges & Debenhams lit up, Hammersmith Square’s Christmas tree and the German sausage hut.  I’m missing mulled wine, ice-skating at Kew Gardens, hot chocolate, seeing Santa land at Covent Garden.  And I’m sorry Myers and David Jones, but the Harrods Christmas Store shits all over you both.  Then sneezes on you. 

But most of all, I am missing the people that make London feel like home. And no, not the charity muggers & London Lite wankers outside Hammersmith Station.  I miss my London family, my pub boys, and some of my very best friends. Who despite the distance and time apart are still as good a friends as back on October 2008. 

Wish I could say the same about everyone on the Sunshine Coast.

The thing about clouds

The thing about clouds is that when you are not in a climate where you expect them regularly they suck.

I have recently spent 2 years living in London. There clouds didn't phase me in the slightest. I truly enjoyed the atmosphere, and getting to wear my fabulous winter clothes, scarves and boots. I never woke up dissapointed that the sun was not shining brilliantly.. it was London after all!

I have now relocated home to the Sunshine Coast. That's right.. The SUNSHINE COAST. Today I woke up to our 4th consecutive day of dull overcast greyness. It's really starting to get to me. Obviously we have a cyclone bla bla bla. But still... I don't even really like the sun (being ginger and all) and I'm desperate for it to come out. Please God, please let it be sunny this weekend.