So, now that we’re in our new home, we’d love to have you over for a drink. For the majority of you that’s not likely to happen in the real world for the near future (although visitors are always, always welcome) so for now, let’s make it virtual.
Our apartment complex is named (the google tells me) after a prominent Swiss social worker, one of the first the country had. (For those that don’t know, this is my previous trade, so it seemed fitting.) We’re on the fifth storey (there are six all up) of a (not exactly garish but definitely not tasteful) yellow building. Sadly, our lift-into-apartment experience appears to have been a one off and we now schmuck it into a common area with everyone else on the floor. One set of neighbours is an older Swiss couple (they were delighted with our girl’s name, and have taken to calling her Heidi, an abbreviation of the German version of her name, Adelheid) and the other is, we think, a younger Italian couple (based on nothing other than their names and a glimpse of one of them in the lift). But enough neighbour stalking – come on in!
Ordinarily, we’d usher you into the kitchen and shove Tim’s cocktail of the moment (usually gin, usually too strong) into your hand. But as this is Switzerland, you need to derobe first. Just to the right of the entry way is the ‘shell cupboard’ (Tim’s words) – a wardrobe that holds shoes, scarves, beanies, coats, gloves; all the outerwear. It’s usually a world of fluster as I’m running late for somewhere or other and, as usual, underestimating the weather and my child’s patience.
Walk down the short corridor and you’ve got our open plan kitchen/dining (to the left) and living room (to the right). Please feel free to grab some virtual salumi and olives from the virtual table on your way through.Tucked in the door in the far left above is our laundry slash general dumping zone. It includes all our recycling, which currently consists of a disgraceful number of wine bottles. From the windows here, you can see the twin spires of the St Leodgedar (built in the 1600s, it’s one of Switerland’s most significant churches apparently), some reflections on the lake if you squint, and of course a bunch of neighbouring apartments. To the right of the living room we have an indoor balcony, a type of sunroom (in a wintery, wintery land). We’ve got views of the Alps (as well as a bunch of miscellaneous rooftops and a bus depot) from those windows as long as the day is clear, which it appears is rare this time of year. It’s been fun moving our existing possessions into a new space. The bookshelves, as I’ve mentioned, have been the only real fail as they are 15cm short for the new ceiling and are subsequently reclining sideways (I like to imagine them doing so sleazily, with one arm supporting their heads). It makes no difference – the girl’s current fave activity is to pull all the books out and throw them on the floor (repeating as quickly as I can reshelve them) (Sisyphus much?).
Moving onward, there’s another corridor that branches off: to the left, the guest room (currently known as Lauren’s room, due to our recent visitor), straight ahead the baby’s bathroom and then to the right, our girl’s room. There are no snaps of Lauren’s room primarily because we rarely go in there, and it is a haphazard mess of power tools and miscellany. Also, you should really come, stay, and see it for yourself.
As always, my Ademalaidey’s room is my favourite. Which is a good thing, given the number of grumpy hours we spend there.
If we head back now towards the entry and turn left – let’s top our glasses up on the way through the kitchen, shall we? – we’ll hit our room. I once went on a tour of a friend’s new house and she described her boudoir as the room ‘where the magic happens’. If ‘magic’ is going to bed before double figures, reading trashy detective fiction and being woken in the fives (if we’re lucky) by the baby, then the description also stands for me. The door you can see there leads out to sunroom balcony, and subsequently we also have views of the Alps slash bus depot from our room. Which makes for a scenic, and occasionally noisy, experience.
The number one thing about our apartment, in a land where storage is not common and for people who don’t come with cupboards, is the walk-in-wardrobe just off our room. It’s large enough to hold (messily, because I’m a pretty lazy housewife) everything we own and it will also fit Adelaide’s travel cot for when we have a full house (say, this coming Christmas). I sort of feel bad that it’ll be her bedroom, but console myself with the fact that we could be putting her in the storage room downstairs.
Our dirty laundry aired, let’s make our way back to the living room for the afore mentioned olives and drinks. Do your best to make sure it’s in real life soon, yeah? Lauren’s room is waiting for you!