After ignoring all rational opinions I idiotically signed myself up for another year at the day release prison often referred to as student accommodation. If the brick walls weren’t enough to defer me then the all night parties should have done the job. Yet here I am sitting on furniture salvaged from Del Boy (yes they are that bad) looking longingly at the luxury apartments just beyond the looming shadow the penitentiary creates. The final nail in the coffin is the cupboard they call a wardrobe. As I first opened the creaky MDF door a red mist descended, where do the handbags go? Well apparently I am supposed to cram my beloved collection into a shelf about wide enough to store this years Vogue September issue and not much else.
As I take a deep breath and remember it is my careless fault that I am in this predicament I continue with my student lifestyle which of course entails venturing out on a Saturday night. I emerge from the bathroom to discover another flaw in their master plan for compact living. The wise idea for a wet room now has the room looking like the set of Poseidon, I half expected Richard Dreyfuss to come paddling through and point me to the exit. Of course my first reaction was to save the valuables which included my battered copy of Twilight, my Uggs and my flat mate’s DVDs. I was at least content that the precious handbags were untouched as they perch high in my room as if lording over their kingdom. So high up in fact that they have thoughtfully provided me with shelves to climb so I can ascend to their level. So now with just the smell of cheap damp nylon to remind me of this week’s mishap, I am relaxed knowing that when (not if) this occurs again the kingdom of handbags will be safe.
As I take a deep breath and remember it is my careless fault that I am in this predicament I continue with my student lifestyle which of course entails venturing out on a Saturday night. I emerge from the bathroom to discover another flaw in their master plan for compact living. The wise idea for a wet room now has the room looking like the set of Poseidon, I half expected Richard Dreyfuss to come paddling through and point me to the exit. Of course my first reaction was to save the valuables which included my battered copy of Twilight, my Uggs and my flat mate’s DVDs. I was at least content that the precious handbags were untouched as they perch high in my room as if lording over their kingdom. So high up in fact that they have thoughtfully provided me with shelves to climb so I can ascend to their level. So now with just the smell of cheap damp nylon to remind me of this week’s mishap, I am relaxed knowing that when (not if) this occurs again the kingdom of handbags will be safe.
No comments:
Post a Comment