My life on Dubizzle

I can always tell when I’m getting enough sleep because I start wanting to do things to the house. There’s something about not being on your knees with exhaustion, your sticky eyes feeling like they’ve been punched onto your face, that makes you look around your home and – sometimes – see it for what it actually is.

And, given that DH and have been married for almost 14 years, what our house really is, in places, is dated.

For heaven’s sake, I bought our key pieces when I was practically penniless and freshly escaped from suburbia. The furniture that my 26-year-old self thought looked classic now looks middle-aged. The touches that I thought looked ethnic (forgive me, I was in the thrall of having married a foreign man) now look naff. There was a time in Dubai when all you could get outside of Home Centre was ethnic wood from Pinky’s, Lucky’s and the fledgling outlet that was Marina. Everyone had the same stuff. My brother paid about 10 times more for the same stuff in John Lewis.

Farewell Pinky-Lucky-Marina sideboard. I loved you once, but your days are numbered.

So how do you go about refurbishing a large (suburban) home?

Unless you’re an interior whizz, bit by bit is the only way. Last time I was getting enough sleep I sold all the Persian rugs. Now I’m on a candlesticks and lamps blitz. As soon as I find replacements for my dining table (Watford, 1997), my sideboard, console and bookshelf (Dubai, 1998) they’ll also be hitting Dubizzle. Actually, I’m tempted to sell them even without replacements. (I could live without them; I’m an Aquarian – we don’t notice these things.)

Still, it’s my mission to eliminate every trace of “Lucky-Pinky-Marina” wood from our home by our 14^th wedding anniversary in August. If I achieve that, I’ll be one very happy lady.