Circa 1993...

Well this is weird. The hubby's down the pub, Dot's in bed and I'm sitting on an Ikea futon in a flat full of someone else's furniture (and our half-decostructed sofa, awaiting the services of Dr. Sofa) lit by a dodgy standard lamp, on my own. It's all very student bachelor pad. If I try really hard, I could almost imagine the last ten(ish) years were a dream.

I like the furnished apartment idea in theory (for my readers in the UK, unlike in London the majority of flats here are rented unfurnished but this one isn't) - it fits the shared ownership concept I blogged about a little while back. You know, share the love and the floral three-piece suite.

But in practice a) it's a bit weird being surrounded by other people's stuff, b) I've just remembered that furnished apartments are where bad furniture goes to die (that and landfill, so it's better than that) and c) I'm wondering if I'm not a bit too old for wobbly chairs, chipped mismatched plates, wooden desks with tubular metal legs and Ikea futons. Especially Ikea futons.

Of course, once we've got our pictures up, our recycling bins arranged and our Park Slope Co-op string bag hanging in the kitchen it'll feel just like home (and also, given that it's a Brownstone in Park Slope, quite a lot like a scene from The Squid and the Whale only Dot's a bit younger than those boys and we don't drive an old Volvo estate - though the idea's growing on me).

I wonder how all our friends in Milanville are getting on? I do miss them, the peace and the fire, but on the other hand it's been great to be able to walk everywhere today - I was out the door with Dot in the sling by 8.30 (completely unheard of for me) - and so sweet having her little mate right downstairs.

Let's see how long the urban novelty lasts. I think it'd be longer if I could be a groovy freelance something loafing around artsy Park Slope coffee shops with Dot and my apple laptop rather than heading to Manhattan every morning at 9.