I know it sounds really pretentious & wanky, but we've got a beach house & a city apartment. I'm not rolling in dough, & my job as a high school teacher is definitely not a Toy Job. And I'm not the sort of person who works because they've got to do something worthwhile & meaningful with their Life. Ugh! How disgusting!
We've only had the house since January so it's still a Huge Novelty. It's a modest 60s pole house on a hill with distant ocean views glimpsed through the trees on Sydney's Northern Beaches. It came with a whole lot of furniture including a huge flat-screen tv. that takes up one wall. B. insisted on decorating it. I'm hardly allowed to make any additions or changes to the decor. In fact, I'm barely allowed to put flowers in the vases. I think he's scared that I will take over & fill the place with old, rotting dolls, which is my Signature Decorating Style.
The Beach House is painted white. B. has filled the floor to ceiling bookshelves with gorgeous- looking hard cover books by zeitgeisty writers like Julian Barnes. For an English teacher, I am a lousy reader. I've only read one Booker prize-winning novel, "Atonement", & that was only after seeing the film, which I loved. On the upside, I do get to spend a real lot of time pouring over "Lear" & "Macbeth" & other weighty texts, which adds a lot to one's literary cred, although I can barely quote a line from any Shakespeare play & I always have to look at Cliff's Notes to remember the plots.
I'm sitting on the couch pretending I'm posing for an upscale decorating magazine. I can just see the Headline - "Architectural Digest Visits Middle Aged Teacher in her luxurious beach house!"
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