It’s official. I have bad taste.
Oh yes indeedy. If you have been questioning my taste for a while now, there is now proof that those who consider themselves the arbitrators of good and bad taste have got my card marked. You see when the designers on the Big Brother set this year were producing the cottage of nightmares, I do believe they must have come round and rooted about in my linen cupboard.
The set this year is designed as a rather pink village. Complete with beauty salon (the bathroom) and cafe (the kitchen) and there are two bedrooms: one an ode to good taste in peach and blue and the other, the graffitied, apparently abandoned delight you see above.
Now let it be said that I will no more apologize for watching Big Brother, than I will for who I vote in the General Election (heck, that could start a kerfuffle), but even I felt a bit discombobulated when I realized that the designers had layered the beds of those supposed to be suffering, with duvet sets, quilts and cushions that I OWN.
Yup. I am Alison and I have shocking taste.
Case in point? This moss green velvet cushion I grabbed at rather greedily in Marks and Spencer a few months ago, and ran home to pop on a chair in a rather redundant corner of my bedroom. Thrilled with myself I was. Thrilled!
And now here I am, suffering the slings and arrows of the TV set designer who has summarily declared that such a cushion and the other items I am frankly not willing to own up to possessing now, are the stuff of nightmares and will be used to PUNISH those housemates who will be denied the pleasure of true luxury.
The shame of it. The absolute shame of it.