All Pink...except for the Grey

I am still here. Quiet, but still here. Covered in paint splats, breathing in fumes from a new carpet and with a preserving pan full of wallpaper paste because it was raining and I couldn't be bothered to venture into the garden to find a bucket, and I over-estimated the amount of wallpaper paste I'd need, and now Andy thinks I should use up the remainder and make a paper mâché head, but I am still here.

In my arty-crafty room. Which has turned out a bit...well, pink. A rose pink carpet. Pink wallpaper with teeny pink roses upon it. Pale pink paint called 'Pashmina' on the walls. White curtain pole and white voile curtains with white flowers on them. So not entirely pink.

I've been sitting here in the middle of the floor, looking around and enjoying the pinkness, and I suddenly thought, 'This is the kind of bedroom I'd have like when I was a little girl.' Only when I was a little girl I had to share with a room with two siblings, and I didn't get my own room until I was 14, and then, because my Dad saw no reason for decorating anything in a colour other than magnolia, I was surrounded by magnolia.

Ooooh, and I've just ordered a mini chaise-longue! That was really exciting. Always wanted a chaise. Found a lovely grey and silver one that's made in Britain. Tybalt, my fabulously camp boy cat, is curled up on a cushion beside me where the chaise will go when it arrives. I think he knows a chaise is on the way. I think he thinks he will look rather fetching reclining on a chaise. I think he is staking his claim. I think he'd better think again.

The chaise is my cheer-me-up pressie for the unholy week that has been this week. Too much rain...lord, it hasn't stopped. A quiet garden. Except for the infernal rain. Redundancies at work. I am assured my job is safe, and that as soon as a permanent position arises it shall be mine, but the promise of a permanent contract suddenly cannot be made, so I continue to cover other maternity posts (they are a fecund bunch in my department)until Christmas at least. Some horrid year 10 boy calling me a 'bitch' today. My nice year 11 boys threatening to beat him up for me. I said thanks for the offer, but being a 'bitch' I think I could handle my own fisticuff battles if I felt so inclined. And I don't like what Google have a done to Blogger. Why do they have to change it just as as I am getting to grips with it? This is the third time. They need to stop it or I shall take mine bloggette elsewhere. Oh, and I suffered my first insect bite of the season, too.

Desk hunting at the weekend. Andy says that I should have a nice desk to write on, rather than the wobbly, fall apart any minute jobbies I've had up until now. The old desk which has also seen service as a potting shed table, a coffee absorber (when Andy was using it), and a storage facility for all sorts of random tat, was used as a pasting table and has been dismembered and gone to the tip.

So until my arty crafty writing room starts to refill with furniture I shall lie here in the middle of the space making carpet angels and staring up at the ceiling.

Enjoying the pinkness.