Seraphim's Journal of Muses

It might not be as ethical as Martin's, or be quite as tuneful as ABBA's, but I really do have a dream.

I have a dream of one day, owning my own business and working from home. Sounds pretty common and basic, huh? Well I guess I am a pretty common and basic person. I want to own a small internet based business so I can work from home all day and be able to look after my currently non-existant children and my hardworking Hubby.

However, I have a slightly smaller dream at the moment. That dream, is a washing machine. How absurd is that? I'm certainly not the stepford type, but I do really want a washing machine. I hate handwashing. Unfortunately, the price of a washing machine over here is double what my rent is. And my rent is a struggle by itself some months. I also can't afford to pay someone else to do my washing, as £15 per tiny load will bankrupt me pretty soon.

I have an even tinier dream, too. And that is for the goit who buys the milk at work to stop buying full fat. I like to have milk in my tea, sometimes. Only with English Breakfast tea, and even then not all the time, but I hate full fat milk in my tea. I hate scraping the oily film off the top. Bleugh. You see, I grew up in an area where my milk-man was my local farmer. And my milk arrived in a re-used plastic bottle with a bit of rag covering it, held with an elastic band. Proper, fresh, just outta the cow milk. The stuff that I get here in the city is so bland. The vegetables too: they never have any dirt on them. The meat tastes of chemicals, and it's tricky to find a brace of pheasant or nice piece of venison no matter how hard you try. Frozen meat is never good. Maybe I'm just a back-country snob. I'm just used to food that has some colour and taste. And air that smells of chicken poo and compost. So full fat, supermarket milk just doesn't cut it for me. At least get me some semi-skimmed.

That is my dream: a dirty bottle of semi-skimmed milk.