Settling in and Charity Shops

After considerable gentle probing on my part, my boyfriend finally ordered furniture for his room. He was content with his little walk-in cupboard, barely the size of a coat closet, but after taking in the heaps of clothes and books that were piling up in the corner of his room, he agreed to buy me a wardrobe. I was slowly getting closer to moving in, even if he wasn't aware of it at the time.

When the furniture arrived, I was like a child again, giddy for a much-awaited new toy. I filled the wardrobe with my clothes and shoes, and neatly folded both mine and Jaimin's T-shirts and underwear into a seperate chest of drawers.

The next day, having passed a family-run charity shop on my way to and from work, I decided to step inside and take a look around. Initially, I was going to buy a few books. I walked out of there an hour later, my arms filled with three books, a beautifully patterned throw for Jaimin's sofa, a vintage dress, a paisely printed scarf, four men's ties (for Jaimin), a casual waist-coat, a dark-brown, oak mirror, and a reading lamp, my purse only twenty-pounds lighter. I had to refrain from buying a rug and scatter cushions; although they were beautiful, I reminded myself that it was Jaimin's room and it would have been unkind to revert it into a feminine bedroom.

I absolutelty love charity-shops. I like the comfort of being able to sit and pore through books without being under the watchful eye of a shop-owner trying to sell you something. I like the idea of acquiring something that belonged to somebody else, and seeing the treasure in what may have been somebody else's junk.

The dress I bought was a vintage design; I intend to wear it to my Cousin's wedding next weekend. As soon as I tried it on, I saw the approval gleaming in Jaimin's eyes and it was a very nice fit on my frame. It only cost me £3 and I can pretty much guarentee nobody else will be wearing it, with it being vintage. Except perhaps somebody's Grandma...somebody's ultra-stylish Grandma that is.

Later that day, I hung Jaimin's mirror on the wall and placed the lamp stylishly beside his bed, next to the flowers I was bought from work. I added my new books to the growing pile on the window-sill. I was satisfied that I had finally left my mark on the bedroom. I haven't gotten around to getting a blown up photograph of myself to hang on his wall above the bed just yet, so I figured the mirror and the lamp was a good starting point.

Anybody that knows me will know that last sentence is said in jest.

The photo was the first thing I put in his room.