Sorry, a very un-styled interiors shoot here. It amused me to read in one of the Sunday colour supplements that black furniture is back in vogue again (like I care), probably as another aspect of this damn ’80s retro trend. Well, I’m inadvertently fashionable, then: my poorly-assembled Ikea desk gave way under the weight of the iMac, so I fished this one (matte black, Habitat’s finest circa 1983) out of my parents’ garage, where it had nominally served as a work-bench, and took it back to my current-day study.
The wicker chair’s a relic from my childhood bedroom as well – and is actually even older, being the first item of furniture my mother bought for herself when she left home in the late 1950s. It used to be white, but she painted it in the ’80s to match the rest of the decor, much to my horror.
The rug was from some tiny little flyblown trading post at the end of the road out of Marrakesh, probably stupidly over-priced but buying it was the only way to get out of there; black wicker trunk (my fabric storage) from a country car boot sale; black Habitat rug again from my mother, once used for family picnics; curtains a boot-sale find by my granny; iMac a discard from a TV company I once worked for. A room on a recession-friendly budget.
But will matte black ’80s Habitat furniture ever reach design icon status like ’50s/’60s Ercol and G-Plan? I can’t see it, myself, but then I never thought batwing jumpers, high-waisted jeans, pixie boots and legwarmers would come back in, either.
How to tackle ever-growing piles of stuff: simply buy a new item of bric-a-brac to store everything in. I finally understand the role of magazine racks – one of 
Polly and her craft crew are running loads of activities round the museums and schools, and my grandmother has already donated all her spare knitting needles (an immense accumulation of all the knitting kit of deceased relatives and neighbours as well as her own purchases), unwanted patterns and a bag of wool. Get the kids knitting, that’ll keep ‘em out of trouble.
For distribution between D, his bandmates and other assorted menfolk who come round our house on the scrounge: a pile of very smart double-cuff cotton shirts, all TM Lewin or other City shirtmakers. (20p each, jumble sale near Rye). The silk dressing gown was intended for Ian, who cuts these up to make cravats, but it’d be a shame to destroy this one, which is in perfect condition - any takers, boys?
Why does the myth that wrap dresses flatter all shapes and sizes persist? I’ve never yet found one that hasn’t made me feel like a lumpy sack of potatoes with string tied round the middle, and this black example with full sleeves (20p, from jumble sale near Rye, no label) is no exception. Still, I’ve found another recipient for my unwanted dresses – hello Maria! - and if she doesn’t want this one, then Lucy can have it, along with this Monsoon sleeveless vest (also 20p, from same jumble).
Departed from the usual territories last weekend: spent Saturday in Rye visiting Kim’s new place, and whilst she recovered from her hangover, took a diversion out to a nearby village jumble sale. Returned with a large wicker basket and a striped apron for her (she was cross we didn’t get the vegetable rack) plus two bamboo magazine racks (50p each), an oval mirror (50p) and some picture frames (20p) to take back to Brighton. Never a scavenging opportunity missed, even whilst fulfilling social obligations.
Finally getting round to doing something with the little oddments and broken bits of costume jewellery I’ve accumulated, including 
No, this is not a Hallowe’en costume – I fully intend to wear this utterly magnificent black cloak non-ironically this winter as an extra outer layer. It’s very thick wool, with a wonderful green silk lining, and the label suggests it’s of ’60s vintage. Missing a couple of buttons on one side, but I shall move the top two hidden by the collar to give an equal line. £5, from the car boot sale in Lewes.
Ask, and the Usual Shop will provide. K wants large – 7 ft deep – cream curtains for her new place; I have found one thick tabbed pair in my attic, and my mother has been persuaded to part with two more pairs, surplus to requirements after her redecoration. Also for redistribution this week: two shirts from my grandmother’s boxroom, one a homemade floral, and the other a rather smart man’s polka-dot, sadly too big for D. Andy D, is this one for you?
It’s an addiction and an affliction, I tell you: no sooner do I clear out, sell or give away a load of stoneware and crockery, I buy a whole load more. All from a jumble sale in Chailey, 20p or 50p an item; a Poole Pottery teapot, a small blue Buchan dish, a little black milk-jug to go on the kitchen windowsill with all the other jugs with white insides, two no-mark vases with nice glazes and an utterly hideous cream thingy (vase? trophy?) which, for some reason, I took a bizarre fancy to. Planted with three blue hyacinths and placed in the fireplace?