Onwards to Plymouth today. Salty Dog is having a girlie get together and it seems silly to make the detour home first. Let's head on back in the morning. Leif, my little green Citigo is such a dinky workhouse. For a tiny car, I can pack rather a lot in him. There's my luggage, my Ikea buys from earlier in the week - a folding stool, storage box, shelved cutlery tray and a few other bits and bobs. Then there's these treasures liberated from the house of my brother and his fiance. The granny blanket is a gift to augment my collection of crocheted beauties and that mirror with its gnarly old wood is a ten pounds charity shop find. It'll grace a particularly thin wall.
The chair is now mine too. My future sister-in-law brings old furniture back to life and I fell in love with this piece that she had for sale. It's going into my bedroom to inject some much needed colour. The chi-chi frenchness goes well with the stuff that's already in there so I'm dead chuffed.
Sometimes it seems that both the Union Jack and St George's flag of England have been claimed by a band of people who give pride in nationhood a bad name. I like to reclaim for the rest of us who love their country and its culture and heritage but don't want to spread hatred. Whilst I see myself as a world and European citizen, it feels right to identify with being British and English too!