Must be spontaneous, love crowds, enjoy mountains, sun and outdoors, know how to make a good cocktail, eating great food, and partying. 28 days later
This blog was intended to be entitled 28 days later, and, predictably, was intended to be 28 days after my return to the Hague.
Alas, time and lethargy hooked their claws in me and ... well, 3 months later just isn't as catchy. Returning to the Hague, I found myself walking the streets one Saturday morning, the broad avenues empty of all life, an occasional loose piece of litter fluttering across an undriven road, climbing onto an untread pavement, circling a while before idling in a dusty corner. It reminded me of the movie where a virus takes hold of the UK, and the heroes walk through a vacant Piccadilly Circus which for all the world seems like time has stopped and they are the last people on earth (this is before being attacked by monkey like infected people wanting to tear strips out of their necks).
The lion the witch and the wardrobe
In such circumstances, your average inhabitant's attention drifts to more domestic attractions. I was heartened to hear recently that Steve Jobs would spend 8 years looking for the perfect couch. Not only because it is a convenient link to the genius and commercial mega success of Jobs, but because until then I did feel somewhat alone in the world as I searched the web endlessly for the perfect "Italian style not too expensive just the right colour, style and shape couch which hopefully someone would deliver too, while removing the old skanky one free of charge". A fairly straightforward proposition that has consumed my first 3 months here (ok, not 8 years… yet).
Similarly the wardrobe. It turns out, moving in with someone, that 1+1=5 and we have a rear bedroom absolutely full with boxes. A quick trip to Ikea improved the situation slightly and we now have something like Fashion week meets X Files warehouse, with rack after open rack of clothes butted up against mountains of boxes. These boxes are of considerable importance. They are the end result of a series of clean-out permutations and efficiency drives that result in a very select remnant. These are known as the "shit that no-one quite knows what to do with". One box was even labelled dramatically and presciently by the London movers as "ITEMS FROM SPACE", another helpfully, if not a little ominously, advises us that it contains "EVERYTHING".
As time drifts on, inevitably these spaces earn also a prestigious title; "room that all the shit goes in when you can't really think of a place to put stuff". There is no need in such an oversized wardrobe-house to have an ethereal backing that leads to a mysterious icy wonderland. It's quite possible to get lost among the boxes, where a person can regularly discover weird and wonderful things on a regular basis.
To give you a taste, this room-wonderland is home to 7x multi-multi point extension plugs (the kind that 1920's Dutch houses love to fry), a tin painting and a piece of broken door from Carolina's college days, a motorbike battery, 5x half finished painted canvases and a miniature wood model man, a romanesque pot holder, a Marimekko giant beanbag, training manuals, an air dust cleaner, and a Barcelona Ottoman without a cushion.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RgUpDGAIdds
The Lion Witch Wardrobe backroom will not disappear in a hurry. It will probably linger until we appreciate it's full necessity and give up thoughts of installing a small office, second bedroom or walk in wardrobe (of the more organised and intentional variety).
Winter is approaching….
