Okay, so Linzi made a throw-away comment last night about how she kind of wanted to come over to my flat because of how small I make it sound; she wanted to see it for herself. If any of you are wondering why you’ve never been invited over to my flat despite the fact that I live in the smack dead-centre of London, this is why: there is no room for you here. I once had someone come over and one of us had to sit on the floor because there’s no space for another chair. It’s that bad.
So I’m holding the front door open. And I’m standing outside.
Just as you walk in the door, you see the toilet and shower room.
You take a step to move out of the ‘hallway’, and the room spaciously opens…
That cabinet you see there contains our bed, which is folded down every night. How do you manage to do that with a table in the way, you ask? You first must fold down the table and move the chairs, of course.
Here is another picture of the back of the flat to give you a panorama effect. You know, since there’s so much to see.
Then you have the desk/breakfast table/entertainment centre/bookshelves… (I’m standing in the far corner of the room, to the side of the bed enclosure just to fit this all into the picture.)
Don’t ask why, with such limited space, we have two massive monitors on our desk. Just don’t. (and for the record, the two generally organized bookshelves in the middle are mine.)
I know what you’re thinking now. But where is your kitchen?
Tada! Right next to where the bed would be when folded down. I’m expecting mad respect from you all now in regard to my culinary prowess.