My search for a bed took me far and wide. From IKEA to MFI (the meaning of whose acronym - shown in the header of this entry - has become so rooted in the national consciousness that nobody I know can remember what 'MFI' really stands for. And I can't be bothered to hit Google to find out.)
I found and purchased one in the end. And then found an identical bed a day later for £100 less. Always happens that way, doesn't it?
I've yet to source a bed for First-born. I selfishly want to a get her a day bed that I can use as a sofa upon which I can sit cross legged and play my guitar or harmonica. Or both at the same time. Haven't touched either for 10 years, so it should be interesting.
The Ex, you see, didn't approve of my musical tendancies. And if I'm honest, I can't really blame her; I'm endowed with enthusiasm, but sadly not talent.
I also bought a washer/dryer combo (not enough space for both) about which I'm hugely excited. I can't wait to put the first load of washing into it. I'm going to get deliberately dirty on Saturday so I can load it up.
I suspect thats a little tragic, but heck; its my life.
