herself arrived safely. of course there was a small drama at glasgow airport, there usually is with herself. there must be something suspicious about the princess, immigration often pull her small american self out of line and question her. probably all those vitamin tablets she carries around with her, guess on the xray they look like the chance for a major drug bust!
now, as you probably already know, herself has decided to move to scotland. oh yeah ... my castle is under seige!
change is in the air!
me, myself, i live on the top floor of an old victorian house. there is plenty of space and huge windows through which any available light pours. my furnishing style... well...
my friends who love me call it shabby chic ... heh!
i live right next door to a charity thrift shop and my home is furnished with that which others have cast off (or should that be out?). plus a few precious pieces i brought from home when i moved to the uk five years ago.
herself does not really approve, the princess has standards. keeping the princess happy is pretty high on my list of priorities. she has my permission to turn our home into the very epicentre of style ... just so as it doesn't cost me, myself wads of money.
there are limits, of course, aren't there always...
non negotiables ...
so now ... she prowls my home with a predatory gleam in her eye! a tape measure clasped to her heaving bosom, her cheeks flushed with a passion for change.
to be honest ... it does make me a little nervous.
change is good ...
adapt or die ...
will i survive? will our small village survive being invaded by new york? will we manage to retain our intrinsic qualities. will i be allowed to lie on the new couch with my shoes on?
so many questions, so little time.
one thing for sure, the wonderfully comfortable, shabby and saggy, doggy smellin' leather couch is out of here.
for sure!
