Sometimes I wish I had done some kind of high powered graduate job at a blue chip company, made stupid amounts of money on property in London and then sold up to live the good life. I probably could have done it by now. However the reality is that if I had got through the selection process I probably would have had some kind of breakdown from work pressure and been miserable in a cheap flat in a crap area. So let's be glad I didn't do that.
I've taken this week off having had a wobbly start to the new year (nothing serious just realising I'm not fully recovered from last summer's time off). I don't have any concrete plans beyond working on wedding invitations, knitting, reading and sorting bits of the flat out. Today I shredded a ridiculous mass of credit card and mobile phone bills, gave the hall shelves a good dusting and put some CD drawers into new use as crap receptacle devices. Somewhere to hide receipts, appointment cards and the general deitrus that gets left around every time you come home. I also went to the library, worked on knitting a baby jumper, watched Be Kind Rewind and read in the bath. It was a good day. Tomorrow I'll tackle another room for cleaning and sorting, knit some more, read some more, cook, watch Obama's inauguration and hopefully have another good day.
I like the domestic life. This year I'm aiming to have even more of a domestic life. I currently work four days a week and it's great to have that extra day as quiet time for me. Extra knitting, cooking, sewing, walking, reading, thinking time. Yes, I'm lucky in that I can just about afford to do this (although it's to help my health not just a little whim I had and I will probably return to five days later this year) but I'd love to have more days like this.
I suppose reading books like Jane Brocket's The Gentle Art of Domesticity
Am I setting women's lib back by desiring these things? No, it's all about choices (and it's worth adding that Jon's just brought me a warm cranberry muffin he just made, I'm not the only one in this house cherishing the domestic life). I don't think a woman's place is in the home, I've got a lot out of working and I'm not sure I'd ever give it up. Actually I think everyone's place is in the home, it's a good place to be (for most of us) and we need to be working to live more. It goes with the whole slow movement, something else I'm striving for.
Ah well, we are not in any financial position to be able to give up work and live the good life, plus there's the danger that we would become total hermits. And whilst I do read many blogs where it seems life is wonderful and there's endless time for crafting and baking, as blog readers we need to remember that bloggers censor a lot. You don't always know the negatives behind a blog post, whether that be ill health, sleepless nights, financial worries, bereavement. I've hinted at why I am off this week, which, in a roundabout way, has lead me to write this post, but you're not getting the full story. And no matter how many beautiful homes you read about in magazines, you never know what's in those handpainted cupboards.
For this week, though, I shall live for my home.
