I’ve been living out off my friends’ spare room now since last august (due to circumstances beyond my control). All my possessions reside in large plastic crates or in piles. In twenty seven years on this planet I have acquired a lot of books, various assorted and ill paired socks and other garments and some musical equipment. In the event of an epic and uncontrolled conflagration, I’m not sure what I would rescue from this pile. Frankly I’m not even sure if any of it would be worth saving. Maybe this means I have achieved a zenlike state where possesions are meaningless and fleeting. Maybe this means I’m poor. I’m not even sure of the answer myself.
With any luck in the next few weeks I shall be moving into a nice new flat which features leather sofas and a jacuzzi bath. Needless to say, this will a step from the accidentally nomadic to the vaguely stable. Perhaps now I will decide that my life is not, nay CANNOT be complete without an Ikea rug, matching throws and crystalware. I hope that my desire for security doesn’t come at the cost of my soul.
I’m having beans on toast again for tea tonight.