We have a tasty little bombshell of news to share with you, dear readers.
Our building is having a musical shops moment. Our botanically inclined neighbour, From Victoria, is movin' on upstairs, and we'll be filling the not insignificant shop space left by her. We'll be DOUBLING our square footage, and picking up a second entrance onto the street in the process. There's a whole lot of excitement going on right now about new displays, new directions for stock choices, not to mention the thrill at the prospect of painting our new front door (does anyone else find front doors surprisingly emotionally loaded? Potentially not. Let's put a pin in that for another post).
In addition to our business move, there are more than a couple of personal milestones being met this year. Or, to be exact, just the couple; In less than a week I'll be adding another year to the rap sheet of life and celebrating quarter of a century, and in five months time I'll be putting on my glad rags and wedding my life partner. Who'da thunk it? Until ever so recently both of these incidents had seemed distant, something that happened on the far shores of other people's lives. Very much like Alaska, I looked at these things on a map, and wondered what it was like to live there, with an implicit understanding that I would never want to.
When the lovely man I live with asked me if I'd like to get married, marriage didn't seem like the same place it had before. Likewise, my 25th year doesn't mean the things I had thought it did. And my business, my six days out of seven (who am I kidding? seven out of seven), is a different animal entirely to those of the sassy self-employed heroines of my formative 90's rom coms. The prospect of becoming Mrs Bessant-James (BA Hons) (Business Owner) (Cool Wife) is the most exciting I could imagine; a surprising update on my previous position.
Milestones can feel like chips to stack. Lines drawn against the wall across the top of your head that add up to a grown person. I think, in fact, they might be more like holidays. They put you in a different place; they give you an altered perspective. Locations that had seemed undesirable, or distant - Alaskas - seem closer, and warmer than they were.