Moving the Furniture

          Within two days of returning home from a four-week trip, I had re-arranged the layout of our living-space. It troubled me that, in certain respects, the existing arrangement reflected a presumed lifestyle as opposed to the way we actually live. We are fortunate in having a degree of choice here, which is not the case for everyone. Nevertheless, in small ways at least, most of us could benefit from reviewing the smaller details of how we live: it is the accumulation of these details (known in the physical realm as clutter) that obscures and confuses vision, blunts purposefulness and generates excessive consumerism. Let me explain.

          Over the past year, we have spent weeks at a time living away from home – either in the campervan (in the UK), or in Airbnb apartments (abroad) – and one consequence of this peripatetic habit is the disruption of the assumption-based routines we develop at home. The way to cope when they are disrupted is to adopt new routines for the environment and reach a happy accommodation with prevailing circumstances. Here is where observation and questioning play a part. For example, it is not uncommon to find that the most comfortable armchair in someone else’s apartment is in the least convenient position, i.e. back against a wall, where there is no suitable light by which to read. This is easily remedied by moving it. Likewise, when there is nowhere to place your laptop and writing pad because every suitable surface is strewn with ornaments, these should be swept up and deposited out of sight. (Before making these changes, however, it is best to take photographs so that all can be returned to normal before vacating your host’s cherished home.)

          Furthermore, in Greek and Italian apartments there are no kettles or teapots, perhaps because they boil water in saucepans and use the teabag-in-a-cup method if they fancy a cuppa. In the USA, they have no kettles, no saucepans and no teapots: just a microwave oven. The way to adapt to this situation is either to compromise one’s taste buds by using teabags or go out to the café for a cup of whatever the locals are drinking. The latter is preferable, given that it is folly to spend time and effort on attempts to make a silk purse out of a sow’s ear.

          In the campervan, where the lounge/kitchen/diner becomes a bedroom at the end of the day, the logistics of life on board are pre-ordained: breakfast cannot be prepared before the bed is put away and everything must be stowed in its allocated space before moving on, etc. As for functionality, the interior fit-out is governed by a logic that maximises the accessibility of all necessary parts. It is evident that there will never be a need for an occasional table to fill an empty corner. Life on-board, therefore, is an uncomplicated business and a vindication of the theory that “less is more”. Campervanners, thus freed from the temptations of displacement activities, have more time to focus on pursuing their chosen goals.

          These experiences serve as a reminder that the layout and functionality of one’s home are predetermined, initially, by whoever built it and by the prevailing conventions and practices of society at the time. It is worth scrutinising the values thus reflected because they influence the way we live and if ever there was a time to buckle down to re-assessment that time is now. The despoliation of Earth’s resources, the looming catastrophe of climate change and the takeover of politics by tyrants and bullies who ignore the prospect of species extinction should not be allowed to be swept under the carpet of cosy domesticity. If we cannot question our daily routines and assumptions, what chance is there that we will act to break away from inefficient, wasteful habits and practices that, until recently, may have seemed innocuous? Moving the furniture isn’t just about tweaking aesthetics, it’s a call to action.