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Birthday Wishlist #5

March 27, 2010

One of the things I’m enjoying about this whole turning 30 business is the extra-special stuff I have organised over the space of the month – instead of one big party, I’ve opted for dinners and drinks and mini-breaks ahoyhoy, which means I get to see more of my lovely people, in different settings, and even cities (Melbourne, here I come!), without feeling any organising pressure.

Last night I had a birthday dinner with some buddies at Bloodwood, Newtown, a shiny new restaurant with gorgeous decor and beautiful food. If you visit, just do yourselves a favour and order the Lamb kibbeh and two serves of the Crispy chicken wings – one just isn’t enough! And get there early – they don’t take bookings and get very busy very fast!

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So, birthday wish #5

This wish is kind of at odds with wish #6, because they both require a certain amount of money.

I would love a place of my own.

Part of living back at home is that I’m in a sort of state of limbo – a holding pattern – which, while it gives me certain freedom (such as the freedom to save money and to travel, freedom that is valuable), it also feels – in a general sense – unsatisfactory, because this space is not my own and as a result I often feel stifled and unsettled.

I would like to buy this place; have it be mine. I’ve rented before and it’s just not something I want to do long-term. If I could buy, and have a couple of friends move in to pay rent, to help with the mortgage … that could work. Although first I’d need to save the deposit, or find a mysterious benefactor. And decide where to live, of course.

{Images: 1. Guardian.co.uk; 2. Graphic Exchange; 3. Lorilangille; 4. Unknown}

I don’t know where it would be, this place, or what it would look like, but I know the qualities I would like it to have; a sunny, open plan kitchen/dining area with a table where I can work and friends can gather, with a door leading into a little garden – a patch of grass and pots full of flowers and herbs; a light living room, with floorboards and space for bookcases coming up to hip-height, and space on the walls for paintings and drawings and photos; a guest bedroom and all the rest. My mugs and teacups in the kitchen cupboard (instead of in boxes under my bed), my pictures on the walls (instead of carefully rolled up in my wardrobe), my books on the shelves.

It’ll happen, I know. But in the meantime there is that yearning. And so I wish and dream and hope and plan.

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