Monday, January 17, 2011
My Happy Place
Is usually wherever Vincent is, but not always. For example, if Vincent is at work, then where he is is not my happy place. My happiest place, where Vincent often is (if I am), is our room.
This is what I would see if I woke up from a nap in the afternoon and I wasn't facing Vincent. Instead of bedside tables, we have bookshelves; partly because bedside tables are naff, partly because we both like to have lots of things (in my case, mostly books) within reach of the bed, and partly because we have lots of books and nowhere to put them. And I just love looking at books.
The teacup and saucer are the newest additions to my teacup/Crown Lynn collection, a very lovely gift from my very lovely father-in-law, who went to one of my favourite shops when he was visiting last week, learnt more in an afternoon about the lady who owns it and Crown Lynn than I have in a year, and came back with this beautiful set.
While he and my equally lovely mother-in-law were here, they also met my parents for the first time. In the hours leading up to the event, I was not in my happy place at all, and nor were they... until they met, and immediately fell in love. Now, I know in my head that if this weren't the case, it really wouldn't matter. Vincent and I are our own people, and the people who spawned us don't define us, or change how we feel about each other. But knowing each set of parents think the other is great... makes thinking about it, while lying in my happy place, very happy indeed.