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wrecks and the city.Home for me is a 15ft by 15ft room in a 1950's garden estate in a back street of Camberwell, which is in South London. I've been here for around four years now and in this time I have come used to the noises that surround me, there are plenty of them. I thought, seeing as how I've a spare couple of weeks on my hands, to go through the typical day in the life of a single woman living in a box in the capital city.
Morning time. The dawn chorus around here is surprisingly loud for a place where you would think that there is little or no wildlife. OK, so mostly it's not the delicate sound of songbirds, it's more the raucous sound of crows fighting over whatever takeaway has been vomited on the pavement outside, but it's birdsong and I take heart from that. At 5am sharp every morning the man who works for a poultry and game bird distribution company starts his van up and goes to work. It's one of those things that you sort of wait for, I sometimes lay in my bed waiting to hear it. If I don'
Awww, poor little fishey.Everyone has to make a choice at some point in their lives as to how they want to live, their priorities, their particular set of morals, whether they think that material things are important to them, whether they are willing to put up with the stress that goes with the more highly paid jobs or whether they want to opt out of all that. In my time I have worked, I've sat in offices where I thought my head would explode with boredom, behind the cash tills in supermarkets, I've sold lighting, I've packed grocery bags, I've worked with children and have cleaned up some of the most extraordinarily shitty arses that you're ever likely to see.
But I have always told myself that if I am unhappy with what i am doing and if it is making it difficult to sleep at night then I am not going to feel ashamed about moving on and doing something else, even if that something else is nothing. Somedays I feel a little gilt at the fact that I don't work, but mostly I think that it's not worth worrying over
Sumi the last part
I broke a promise to myself. I said that I would never be caught out by her again, that Littlefishey is not at home to irate paranoid old women. Unfortunately promises were made to be broken and earlier this week I had a visitor. Yup, Sumi is back, my mad eyed, batty neighbour from directly one floor below came to visit with another tale of her invisible stalker and my invisible house guest.
It was late evening last wednesday, around half past eight, I'd settled down in to my arm chair with a drink and was feeling quite serene all in all. I was mid-way through an episode of 'Celebrity Ready, Steady, Cook' when there was a familiar hammering at the door. My heart sunk just about as low as it could go, I knew what was awaiting me on the other side of the door and I knew that I would be better off if I didn't answer it, but, dear reader, curiousity (and the desire to write another web page) got the better of me. I opened the door a crack and there she was, this time with props, she'd arme
Sumi part two
Last week I was constructing a set of shelves and was getting hot and bothered doing so, you know how this flat pack furniture can get to you after a while. I'd just launched a battle against a reluctant screw that didn't want to be screwed in, when there was a knock on the door that was hard to ignore, if she'd knocked any harder her fist would've come through. I had a good old swear in advance cos I knew it'd be her, I recognise that anxious knocking anywhere. This time things took a rather more sinister turn. The story goes that Sumi's sister was walking back to the flats from 'The Tesco's' (a supermarket over the road from me) and looked up to find that a 'big black man' had jumped out from behind my curtains and had taken a photo of her. "This", she told me, "was dangerous, not a good thing, are your curtains pink? Yes, then it was definately your flat that it happened in. Is he your boyfriend? Do you know that blackie bastard? My poor baby can't sleep, my sick husband is very ups
Sumi part one.
Well, it's been a good long while I said goodbye to my last official residence, which I namedAction Towers, and it's now a dim and distant memory. I have my own place now, in which I live alone and am having a very nice time decorating, arranging, rearranging and fussing over where each object d'art belongs to set it off to it's best advantage. Besides which I can do things like going to the loo with the door open so I can watch TV at the same time, it's all very liberating. Everything about the place is great, it's big, roomy, and the view out of my kitchen window looks like a touristy postcard shot of London, you can see The Houses of Parliament, Tower bridge, St. Pauls Cathedral and the Tower of London. I am very happy there. But there always has to be something to upset the balance and there is a fly in my ointment that I could well do without.
On the first day I moved there I was just settling down after unpacking and dealing with various workmen and officials when there was a kno
The Cult of Ikea
And I wasn't the only slave to my nesting instinct. The people I know who used to sit in the bathroom with pornography, now they sit in the bathroom with their IKEA furniture catalogue. - from Fight Club by Chuck Palahniuk, 1996</i>
What is it about Ikea? No matter what time of day and which day of the week Ikea is always busy, this is an enclosed world where daylight doesn't enter and whatever is happening outside is unimportant. Ikea is another planet where everything is a good idea and so very very cheap.
You walk in (through a gliding revolving door) and from that moment you know you are at their mercy, the stairs take you up to the restaurant and then sweep you along to the salesfloor. You're no longer in your own country, you have entered an independant republic. Once you're in the loop you wander for hours and hours, there is a map, but you don't bother looking at it. The sofas sit comfortably in the midst of mocked up living rooms, made to look like the usual occupant
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scheinbar is a much-loved and well-known deviant. Just one look at her gallery, filled with enchanting photography, will have you mesmerized. A deviant for over 7 years, Christiane can always be found posting inspirational features as well as regularly commenting on other deviations and encouraging and empowering her fellow deviants. We are inspired and insist that you too stop by and congratulate ... Read More