Cath Kidson, if I knew you in real life I would have rohypnol'd you by now. Yes, it's a verb.
This ridiculously overpriced piece of kitsch wonderment is a thing of beauty. You know when you just think, 'If I owned that, my life would be so much better'. Not that it would, I know, but it feels like it.
Sometimes I intentionally throw something I really like away, just so I don't become too attached to it. Maybe that's a bit weird, but I don't want to become obsessed with objects. If you own something for a certain amount of time, sometimes you feel obliged to keep it, just because you've had it for so long. It's time to throw those socks away, because they can't possibly keep you feet warm anymore.
It's all about the memories attached to the objects that can't be thrown away, or break, or have tea spilt on, or get lost, or be sat on, or be sold for drugs money, or be eaten by the cat... That's all I need. If I forget about it, then it obviously wasn't important enough in the first place.
About Sophie
- Sophie
- Sophie formed from the mould found on the bottom of a writer's mug of tea. Not much is known about the writer, except that they were shite. A considerable amount is known about the mug, however: it was a white mug with The Beatles images on the side. Many believe this is the cause of many of Sophie's traits, such as her pale shiny skin and her treatment of The Beatles like Gods. Some might say Sophie talks too much crap. Some might say her use of large font is quite irritating. Some might say she’s a twat. All of these are true of course, but you’re the one reading the blog so now who’s the twat, eh? This is the blog of Sophie, and her adventures, thoughts and opinions.
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