Even though I try really hard (honest I do), I get seduced by the contents of the Toast catalogue every single season.
Is it strange/wrong that the prospect of two week's entertaining my children on my own unnerves me?
I like to wrap birthday presents in brown paper and raffia string.
There are moments when chatting with my best of friends that I realise...yep, she really does know me inside out. Those moments are the best...
Details matter to me; I notice things like ribbons, buttons and zips; if they are not quality I can't buy the item.
My wardrobe veers dramatically between classic preppy and quirky bohemian.
I have a sneaking suspicion I generally manage to get any conversation back to something that is relevant to something that has happened to me. Does that secretly mean that I think my life experience is the most validated kind and look for it in everyone else?
Given the choice I would always choose vegetables over meat, yet am not vegetarian - is this a missed opportunity?
Words like compote, gingham, mellowed, hessian please me. Does this mean I aspire to live in cabin in the woods making jam?
I conduct elaborate arguments in my mind for and against things - constantly weighing up each side of everything, be it whether I should buy that dress (usually yes), to whether I make my kids eat enough healthy food (usually no).
Does it make me a cliche that I walk in to the newly opened Cath Kidston shop in my hometown and genuinely think I could find a use for a union jack pin cushion - even though I can't sew!
I often wonder...am I the only one like me?
|all images bar one from Toast|