As the entire world knows, The Boy recently moved back to London and his long suffering but adoring wife (otherwise known as your friendly neighbourhood Ali) after two years working in Paris and the two of us (although more him) living our lives split across two cities and countries.
He was busy "working" and "providing for his family" and the like, so I got left to pack up our Paris life and sort out the shipping . After about 5 minutes of this, I got bored and made him throw away a lot of our Paris-stuff, which seemed legitimate because we don't need even more cutlery/crockery/glassware in our London kitchen, for example.
But now we are home and he's exacting revenge by pointing out that I am a colossal hoarder and nostalgia-ridden nightmare, incapable of throwing away my A Level revision notes, even though nobody will ever ask me to do calculus again and my French is far better now at 27 than it was at 18. Similarly, do I really need 43 dresses when from the months of September through April, I live in black leggings and a grey jumper? The whole place is filled with piles of books because I can't walk past a bookshop without buying something. I am being forced, by a man who supposedly loves me, to send bags and bags of my belongings to charity shops in an attempt to embrace a new, more minimalist existence.
What's your home/bedroom/life like Codex? Are you living a very minimalist zen lifestyle with few possessions? Can you throw things away easily? Or are you like me, clinging onto remnants of your earlier life because it almost pains you to discard a metro ticket-stub that took you across Rome 10 years ago (true story that)? Are your walls a blank whitewashed canvas or do you need photos and art all over them because emptyness makes you uneasy?
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