Bad day in the office? Life becoming too expensive? The outside world too cold for comfort? If you have answered "yes" to one or more of these questions then I think you need a place of retreat.
I have a place of retreat – my bedroom. And the four white walls have become very familiar recently. Have I ever mentioned how much I love my bedroom? No, well, let me mention it now. It may be on the small side, so am I (height I mean, my width is another matter entirely), but it’s all mine.
I’ve been the sole owner of the room since it was built thirty years ago. My family and I moved into the house, or should I say bungalow, three decades back, and my parents decided it would be nice to build an upstairs.
So a staircase and three bedrooms were built. For a long while workmen occupied our home, and I kept pretending I'd forgotten which room was to be my bedroom (I was only five at the time) and therefore I kept asking to be shown. If I remember correctly, I asked the builders an average of three times a day to show me which room would be mine. "I've forgotten again," I would say. How annoying I must have been.
Over the years the décor and contents have changed on numerous occasions, depending on my age and hobbies at the time. It started off with Sindy dolls and stuffed animals, and then progressed to a desk with a typewriter. Next came the record player and Wham! posters, followed by a sofa bed for friends to permantly crash on. These days it’s filled with books (actually, it's always been filled with books but my reading material has changed and grown with me) and photographs of my friend’s children. And a few ornaments scattered here and there.
I deserted my room for a few years, and much to the surprise and amusement of my family and friends, I moved out and became domesticated. Okay, it took me a while to get into the swing of it, but once I got the hang of it, there was no stopping me!
Unfortunately or fortunately, which ever way you look at it, I realised that my new home and all the odd characters and the crazy life style was not for me. So I came back.
I actually walked back into my bedroom and said "Hi honey, I’m home.”
My father muttered something about he knew he should have knocked that wall down and expanded their room, and my mother complained she would never get her walk-in-wardrobe. But then they explained they were only joking and it would be lovely to have me around again.
And I’m still there. Other than visiting the gym in the last few weeks, I have spent many an evening lounging around in my bedroom, reading ('The Bind Assassin' was a very enjoyable read, interwoven with a novel inside the novel, now it’s 'Enduring Love'), watching telly (I’m really into cookery programmes at the moment, 'Master Chef' and 'Ramsey’s Kitchen Nightmares' are holding my attention), listening to music and tapping away on my lap top. I don't do all these things at the same time, I hasten to add. I’m not that clever.
As much as I fantasise about owning my own property, for me to decorate and entertain in, I’ll miss my bedroom when I finally spread my wings and fly away again.
And I’d like to think that perhaps the sentiment will be returned.
Pictures of the day:
Scenes from my retreat.
The shoe candles.
Home is where the heart is.
You light up my life.