Sweet, glorious spare time - poorly utilised but fervently enjoyed, oh how I love you so. I have had chance to gather my thoughts over the last few days and do a few chores that sorely needed doing. As of today, however, the flat is reasonably tidy (including my bedroom, possibly for the first time since I moved in) the recycling has been done, even most of the glass; a few emails have been sent and, um, that's it really. Nevertheless I am feeling much more accomplished than the previous few sentences would suggest. It is very true that the state of your environment affects your mindframe, I believe. Tidying ones own belongings can be very therapeutic. This is probably why it is so much more difficult than tidying up other peoples mess, especially when you aren't in the right mood for it.

I went to speak to the antique shop on Hyde Park corner before about collecting my Ottoman. It's gorgeous - vivid pastel violet, curling lines and floral print on the cushion. I've discovered to my delight that I really enjoy looking round the antique shops. I'm thinking of going round a few antique fairs and getting some old pieces to do up over the summer. I'd imagine it's probably pretty easy to botch up but we learn by doing, after all.
I love the juxtaposition of old and new - antique desks with painted on motifs, gilt mirrors with feathers and beads. Fleur de Lis in bright pink on turquoise. They have a real tiki bar for sale - faded pink plastic fringing, bamboo and a suspended swinging rack for drinks. It's hideous, I love it.

Presumably because of the high turnover of tennants in our flats, there is always a pile of unclaimed mail in our building. It accumulates into an increasingly unmanagable pile until every couple of months, someone (maintenance?) throws it away and the whole process begins again. T Elbrigani, Joseph Webster and a girl who lived in our flat called Sarah something. Sarah was evidently a subscriber to Heat magazine. The last 2 weeks I have been reading it on her behalf. I forgot how unattractive that kind of magazine is. Their voice is one of such nasty, insecure, unappealing women. Example: This week they had a section called "The Naked Truth" featuring photoshoots they had done with female celebrities like Davina McCall and Fearne Cotton without makeup and airbrushing.
Ostensibly, the purpose of this was to promote a better female body image, to show how even beautiful glamorous women have flaws like the rest of us, how magazines like themselves purport an unrealistic standard of beauty etc etc etc. Which is sort of commendable, in a way, but then they undermine all of it by putting on the cover to illustrate the story, a picture of Fearne Cotton from the article, sans maquillage - with the caption, "Crikey, look at Fearne Cotton!" To be honest she doesn't even really look that bad anyway. This is just so typical of the hypocritical and contradictory nature of this kind of "Journalism" (and by extension, the people it is aimed at) - nasty, bitter and a victim of it's own worldview. Embaressing.

Incidentally, there is also a picture of Lauren Laverne which touts her as a DJ. I only know who this woman is due to remembering her being quite annoying in Kenickie and then presenting a Buffy documentary that coincided with the premiere of the first episode of season 6 in the uk, in which she was also quite annoying. She has cropped up every so often since then, generally in roles that highlight her capacity for annoyance. I am expecting her to migrate into the lower tiers of the super yacht industry any day now, before beginning a lacklustre career in space travel.