Looking around the house, I realise that my furniture is far more than functional. It actually tells a story, the story of my life to date.
Unlike other things I've purchased, each chair, table or bookcase marks a specific time or event. Why? Well, perhaps because buying furniture tells the story of growing up. It's something that we don't even need to consider buying until we leave home.
I remember when 'moving house' meant fitting everything into my Mum's car. Last time I moved I needed a Luton van. With every move, the vehicle required has got bigger - one day I'll have one of those huge trucks and enough cash to actually pay people to do my packing.
The milestone comes, I guess, when we stop renting furnished accommodation. Nowadays, I shudder at the thought of sleeping in a bed that has been dreamt on by who knows how many strangers. Names of previous occupants might still flutter through the letterbox on junk mail, but at least I've not 'shared' a bed with them.
Like most people, my first unfurnished flat was filled with an eclectic range of hand-me-downs from relatives and car boot purchases. And, like most people, my first 'big' new purchase was a bed. There's something that makes you feel so grown up when you buy your first bed. Looking around the house now, I can see evidence of each new job or pay rise over the years. There are still things that were there in my first flat, but since none of my donated furniture was an heirloom antique, I know it's inevitable that at some point, I'll need, or want to replace those things too.
For some time I kept the catalogue of a well-known Scandinavian furniture shop in the bathroom. I'd spend hours planning fantasy shopping trips to deck out the house. Then came the day that I realised how many people's houses looked almost identikit, because they'd done that very same thing. Or, rather they'd actually gone out and purchased everything rather than thinking about it in the bathroom. These days, living too far away from one of those big Scandinavian shops makes buying furniture there nearly impossible. It's actually done me the world of good as I've found far bigger treasures online or in local shops.
Some things that we buy - shoes, clothes, even books and music - might reflect a moment in our lives. They're like a photo album of specific days: a CD bought on a sunny day, or shoes purchased to cheer yourself up. But furniture's more like a long running video; it's on show, it's there everyday.
When we part with a significant amount of cash for something, we've got to be pretty certain that we'll still love that 'something' a few years down the line.
So, as well as telling the story of my life to date, buying furniture is also like playing a guessing game about whom I'll be in the years to come. It's fair to say, that the new sofa I need will also become a time-travel machine.
By Sarah Maple