Home is…

Tea and books

Yesterday husband, who has earned himself untold brownie points, waited at home all day for delivery of some ginormous book cases for the dining room. And THEN, when I finally got home, they were pretty much assembled and ready to receive ALL THE BOOKS. This was a pretty big deal, normally he gets quite wound up about DIY and ends up naked and sulking. Neither of us are sure why this happens but it does. Every time. Not only did I come home to a fully clothed husband but dinner was on the go and my bookshelves were begging to be filled (they’re dirty innuendo bookshelves, who knew)?

I hadn’t realised just how much I’d missed having my books close to hand but last night I got to get them all out of their boxes in the garage and find them all new little homes in our new little home. Best. Night. Ever.

We’d been desperate to move from chavsville for so very long that we didn’t really spend any time on the old place and my poor little tomes had been relegated into cupboards in the dining room from hell that was never used. If I wanted one it involved actually opening the door followed by the eye pain of the atrocious décor and some kind of book moving related RSI to shift them all out of the cupboard to find the one which was invariably located at the very bottom of the very last pile. But now? Now they’re back in full sight waiting to be organised into some fandangled system by a surprisingly willing teen. Our whole place feels instantly more homely.


I wrote a post aaages ago about the things that remind me of home and I’m a firm believer that ‘home’ is less about the building and more about the people, the pets and the feels. As it happens, for me it’s also having all of my books around me. For every book I popped on a shelf, I found another three that I wanted to revisit or that had *shock horror* never been opened. Is it too much to say it made me a euphoric? It did. Big cheesy grin euphoric. Sneaking out just to peek at the books euphoric. Although the sneaking out was directly related to giving my eyes a break from the monstrosity that was Mary Berry’s jacket on last night’s GBBO.

It’s also pretty ‘daggy’ as Nicole might say and most spectacularly uncool how excited I am to start searching for the perfect little spot in the new place from which to devour each and every one of them, my money’s on the floor by the patio doors or nestled in the bay window in the lounge, I’ll let you know how that goes. Wherever my reading nook ends up being (and really, it should have been in here right?) I will of course share it with you.

Every day this little building transforms more and more into the home we’ve hoped for for such a long long time and I couldn’t be more thankful.

And for you, home is…?

P.s. please feel free to use the word fandangled liberally in your conversations, it should definitely be a bigger part of the English language.

Into the Darkest Corner (Book Review)
Book Review: The Ladykiller