What constitutes as an era?
‘The period of time to which anything belongs or is to be assigned’
In that case, 30 Knoyle street has been an era belonging to friendship, red wine and self-discovery.
We are approaching the end of this era. Soon, the time will come to say goodbye to the wine filled evenings sustained by circulating chatter and loud music. To bid farewell to the mice, the broken dishwasher and the dodgy Wi-Fi. Adios to the love chair and arrivederci to the home that we called ours for a year.
A year doesn’t seem like a very long time. A year goes by so quickly. For me however, this particular year has been one which I will never forget, I will always treasure and I will entitle the year of ‘becoming.’
When we moved in, I’m not sure that any of us could have expected to have created the abode that we did. A space in which anything goes. Where boundaries are blurred, lines are crossed and love is at the centre of everything we do. In this space I was able to learn so much about myself. To moan about the mess, the late nights and the mice, but be received with nothing but understanding. To cry about a boy I was told to avoid with no mention of ‘I told you so’ or ‘what did you expect?’ To come home from what seems like the worst day of my life, only to be disarmed by the vibe created in our home.
I don’t know how we’ve done it. I don’t know how I didn’t scream every time I found my favourite mug being used as a science experiment for a new species in Ali’s room. How I didn’t cause arguments when I cried over the sink because of the amount of washing up. How I’ve learnt exactly what I need in this life of sin: is kind and caring people, good people, inspiration, house plants and a regularly emptied bin.
The four of us coming together, a mismatch of broken pottery that when put together made something quite special. Because of this house, I have become a better person. I’ve made braver decisions, confirmed things that I always knew and I’m beginning to understand myself better than ever before. The basis of this, I believe, is our level of communication. This house runs not on electricity but on conversation. From love island to childhood trauma, calibre of wine to tomato sauce recipes, we cover it all. Got a problem? No problem, it’ll be solved by the end of an evening spent boxing, or cooking, or drinking, or lying in bed chewing over every possible solution, scenario and outcome.
Every day spent in this house, the house that I love to hate. The house which doesn’t have windows and is a dumping ground for dust and indescribable scents. I have loved myself and the people in my life a little bit more. I have learnt that bodies come in different shapes and sizes and every type is just as desirable. I’ve learnt that dressing for a feeling is far more effective that looking in the mirror. I’ve learnt how I deserve to be treated by the people I allow into my life. I’ve learnt that I have some sort of disorder which flares when the kitchen isn’t clean and mess seeps into my daily path. I’ve learnt that the people you let close to you are the people who will love you the most. I’ve learnt that your insecurities are your own and no one else will ever see them from looking at you.
This learning zone has been built by three very special women. Ellis has kept me sane. She rationalises my privileged qualms and knows when I’m in a mood before I do. Her smile is the first thing that I see in the morning and the last thing that I say goodnight to. She mediates my erratic diet changes by reminding me that ‘chocolate isn’t food, it’s emotional support.’ There’s no other person that I would want to lie in bed with and say nothing at all. Her work ethic both inspires and scares me and her capacity to love amazes me. She id my rock. My daily lifeline, one that once I plug into I feel safe, sound and loved.
Liberty has helped me to grow. Her cooking has made me care about what goes into my body. Her book and podcast recommendations have kept me entertained on long walks and tube journeys. The awareness she has about the world has made me wonder, dream and analyse. The gifts that she leaves on my bed when I’m having a bad day have saved me from self-pity and dark spaces. Her burping has made me tolerant of other peoples habits. Her boobs have made me jealous and proud all at the same time; they have become my party trick, as I demand she gets them out as though they were mine to show off.
Ali has kept me intoxicated, Not only with drink, although she’s responsible for most of my alcohol consumption. She has kept me stimulated. Showed me how to see the fun in everything that this often draining life has to offer. She has taught me to grow my armpit hair because it makes me feel sexy. She has taught me to take my bra off whenever it becomes restrictive. I have learnt that there is no better feeling than being bare foot whenever the chance presents itself. She has taught me never to take myself too seriously and to play music endlessly.
I will forever be grateful for this era. I have become a woman who knows what she wants but also has no fucking clue what she’s doing. And I’m completely fine with this. And that’s because of a special kind of support, one that says ‘fuck what everyone expects you to do.’ One that has pushed me to follow my gut and learn from the decision that I make through reflection. I’ve learnt that female friendship is a fuel, one that never runs low.
I have become so much more because of this house. All in spite of the mess, the hangovers, the lack of toilet roll and the metre running out half way through cooking a meal. I have become more because of these three ladies. What a wild ride. Thanks bitches, for the love, the support and the good times.
What an era it’s been. x