I just want a teeny tiny house, with few (but loved and lovely) things and a desk with a view to some trees so I can write for the next year (and go for walks––probably somewhere Autumnal and cool, a bit drizzly and cheek-crisping). Ill fill it with the delicious smells of roasts and soups, and my spaghetti bolognese, and the windows will fog up so its perfectly cozy (Rufus will be curled up on a sheepskin, and next to me while we stride through the forest). Sometimes, when I need faces and voices other than my own, the people I love most will drop by to eat and talk. My couch will be the perfect book reading spot and I will drink red wine on the deck and go to bed early. Thats all I want, just that. And some dark chocolate to dunk in my cup of tea. I suppose that is quite a lot really but just in case anyone wants to help me realise my dream the sixth one is my favourite (head room above the bed, and that lovely deck, and the almost proper kitchen), but I also really, really love number one.
Posted on: Tue, 30 Dec 2014 04:00:23 +0000
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