Last weekend I spent my days helping my talented friend D. move into a studio flat where she will live and create her art for the next few years. And luckily for me it is just up the road, a 10 minute walk or a short cycle and I can’t wait to drop in for a neighbourly chat.
But before that can happen she needed a few essentials, so, like an old married couple, we wandered around Ikea discussing light-fixtures and soft furnishing, picking cutlery, plates and most importantly wine glasses. And we even spent some time at a flea-market trying to find a few more individual items.
On Sunday night we occupied ourselves with the constructing of a shelf and a assembly of a coffee table, pulling the new carpet this way and that to make sure it was in the perfect position. Slowly the room began to transform, shape itself around my friends taste.
Today the movers are coming and all of her clothes and nick-knacks and other personal belongings will find a place in her new home. And while I love where I live, and don’t want to move, I can’t help but feel a little bit envious of her new beginning, a fresh start with a blank canvass of surroundings to fill with new memories and old memorabilia – and I can’t wait to become a small part of them.