(you know who you are)
Enjoy this virtual tour of my flat. This way I never have to invite you over (I’m a rotten hostess) and you never have to come (if you’re one of the fundamentally lazy).
Please notice our lovely corridor with M’s railing on the right (not visible from this angle but there none the less).
I don’t know why it’s there really. Now if I had left anything as ugly and cluttery (yes there is such a word, whatever spell-checker might think) in the corridor it would have been a huge issue.
But for the Munt & this man?
Of course not, perfectly understandable.
Please notice all the junk bottles collected by the Munt & co. scattered all around it. Since I have given up cooking and they don’t ever do anything else, it’s fair enough.
Next to the kitchen also on the left, is our lovely loo and within it thousands and thousands of products. All the Munt’s of except the ones on top of the cabinet. He likes to try every product that comes on the market.
He also buys, regularly, a £25 clinique soap bar. It’s magical and every time it’s used a little elf is born, hence the expensive price tag.
Opposite out kitchen (and loo) is our very tidy, all pillows fluffed, living room.
Notice the lack of people in it. Indeed this is one of its most prized qualities.
I have developed a real love for my little cosy hole of a room. I’m so damn sick and tired of moving every year for the last 5 years. Fucking hell I feel like a snail.
The only thing missing from my bed is my ex lolling around lazily wrapped in my nice white duvet that inevitably has tobacco and bits of rizla scattered over it, under it or in it.
(Last night, the ex emptied my rolling kit on the bed, accidentally, I should hope.)