When I was a kid, my sister and I shared a bedroom. It was not as tidy as this one:
or as bespoke and evenly separated as this one:
If I think back now, given that I feel about a million years old with this head cold, I don't remember it being so very bad, but I know that at the time I couldn't *wait* for my own room.
Sharing a bedroom meant fun and games after lights out, but it also meant having to draw an imaginary line down the middle of the room and big bust ups accompanied by yells of 'you're on MY side!' and 'Mo-oh-mmmm, she's touching my stuff again, it's not fair!' Being the big sister meant that my little sister was always all up in my business, given half a chance.
I thought sharing a room meant that we must be poor...why else wouldn't my parents have moved house so that we could each have our own room? What shame. I also thought that being an only child would have been much more preferable...but now that my sister and I are adults, and she's provided me with the super-nieces, I know I was dead wrong about that.
It appears I'm wrong about twin beds too. I keep coming across gorgeous rooms, where there is twice as much to appreciate, and such pleasing symmetry:
Hello sexy nailheads in Hermes orange:
Two beds allows you to make a statement with a stronger wall covering than you might otherwise choose:
And an opportunity to play with scale and pattern:
(hello painted lady, I love you)
and if you're lucky enough to live in Africa, or even just visit it, you could roll like this:
Make mine a G'nT.
And one for my sister too.