Could you live in a white box?

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This weekend , I have discovered exactly how I feel about an all-white interior - some good, some bad.  Admittedly, our Airbnb apartment was a little on the extreme side of an all-white interior, in fact it could even be described (by an individual that doesn’t visit enough art galleries) as a contemporary art installation entitled 'the light box'.

The floor, the ceiling, the bathroom, the bed linen, curtains - you get my drift.  And not a warm white, oh no, a cold white, the kind of colour that can only be found in a large tub of emulsion sold by a well known trade-only brand! 

There are many reasons why living in a white box is a good idea.  For a start, you can spot spiders with their beady little eyes coming for you from the other end of the room; small children can race annoying Lego car figures across the floor at breakneck speed, finding lost car keys (clearly hidden by Mr Wattle) can be easily found (unless of course your car keys happen to be white) and most importantly, with ease, you can find and pluck unwanted facial hairs (I know, I too thought that would only happen after I turned 94).  My dad, a builder, has always told me it is far easier to paint rather than clean, something you could do very easily with an all-white interior.   Imagine, never having to discuss paint colours again.   I hear, on average, it takes seven testers before you decide on your chosen colour (I have never been described as average and paint choosing is no exception!).

On Day 1 of our city break, it was looking quite likely that I would return to the UK and purchase many litres of said white trade emulsion paint and start the slow process of creating a white box, with the intention of only every shopping at The White Company from now on.  Our lives were surely going to become so much simpler.    Isn't this after all, the purposeof the hygge life, to make things more simple.   

Fast forward to Day 3 of our city break and we had all started to shed hair and skin (sorry), and painting rather than cleaning didn’t seem like a viable option. You can literally see everything and this isn't even proper family living, plus the dirtiest members of the family, the whippets, are not even here - they are merrily trashing someone else’s house!

There are absolutely no lie ins: from early morning it’s like something out of Krypton when superman appears for the first time and a beaming light transcends onto the bed.   Once awake, if in a negative mindset, for a fleeting moment you might actually believe you have been restrained and locked away into a safe room for behaving badly at the local supermarket when they had run out of your favourite pinot grigio, or that it was just another shit game of the Cube.  And then, you still have to have a shower and get dressed, and I for one don’t ever want to see my body in that level of natural light again (I have vowed to say no to any pastries that are offered to me in the forceable future as not even I knew I looked like that!).

Don’t get me wrong, it is utterly perfect for an Airbnb (one of the best we have stayed in), it’s soul-less, so you can easily be convinced that the owners did not have to vacate their treasured home just to make a quick buck, and are eagerly waiting (in the shed outside) for you to leave so that they can put back up their wedding photos.  But, as a home it simply isn’t for me and I, for one, am looking very much forward to losing keys, ignoring my body shape, waking in darkness and knowing that I can continue to buy shit at boot sales and still find spaces to put it.   Who needs a simple life anyway!

Anyone know where I put the Little Greene paint chart?

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Gemma Lewis