Enid Blyton and the Father of Lies

Last night after my catharsis, we decorated the white walls of our flat, with Blik. Blik are self adhesive, removable wall decals perfect for decorating the magnolia heavy walls of a rented flat. Our white box needed cheering up more than most.

We bought 2 sets; We Are Not Savages, a design based on Lord of the Flies, and Let's Go Parasoling, a beautiful design which now sits in our bedroom. The end result is beautiful, but boy, is it hard work to put up! The packaging suggests as soon as the package arrives, you simply unpeel and stick, et voilà, a new room. I think it took us four hours. Yes, I think that's fair; we went to bed at quarter to two. It was almost like putting up an Ikea wardrobe, but with less sweat. Two glasses of wine were simply not enough. The parasols design involved having to line two pieces exactly over each other, which is no mean feat. Let's just say that there was a little bit of shouting, and it wasn't mine...

The second set was even more problematic. The pieces were huge and our flat is small. My role was prepping and peeling, clearing away, and making the final decision on where the pieces will lie (having the slightly more artistic eye), as well as sticking on the less intricate pieces (the ones without underpants for instance). Mike took the steering wheel as the main sticker-on-er, more qualified by virtue of his steady doctor hands and origami skills. He excelled [apart from the early shouting which we don't dwell on] and the wine helped.

When I woke up this morning with the sun streaming through the window, there were 3 children flying away into the sunset on a beautiful summers day, ready for their latest big adventure. I wonder if they have remembered their picnic of home made lemonade and hard boiled eggs, with a separate twist of salt wrapped in greaseproof paper?

In the corridor, Piggy, broken glasses and all, and a half crazed Simon cower round the corner with the dead pig already gathering flies. Across in the main room, the fire rages, the savages dance, and Ralph blows his conch. Obviously, it isn't the happiest of books, but it really suits our flat, and it makes me smile. Two lots of very different childhood memories have now been brought to America.