The boyfriend and I are currently in the process of moving flats and I have been up to my neck in cardboard boxes, parcel tape and random belongings for days. We are both avoiding the bedroom at the moment, as, what with my half emptied suitcase and half-hearted attempts at packing, it looks like the wardrobe projectile vomited across the carpet, see below.
We are moving to a slightly bigger flat but I’m sick of having to fight just to retrieve an outfit from my over-stuffed wardrobe so I have volunteered to get rid of a few bits and bobs. Not only have I been forced to sell and charity shop some of my clothes, I now have to spend the afternoon going through all of my beloved fashion magazines, as I’ve promised I’ll get rid of some of ‘that junk’ before the move.
The upshot of this culling process means that I get reread half the magazines, purely so I know which ones to keep and which to chuck of course!