Nothing is on my fridge at all. Sometimes you can tell a lot about a person by looking at what is on their fridge.
My aunt has a whole side of her massive double fridge dedicated to magnets from around the world and also around the UK. Odd magnets, magnets with funny quotes, magnets that mean something, magnets that depict a city or a town or a resort or a collective of landmarks of a country, magnets of things, quirky magnets.. just magnets galore.
My mum’s fridge is a bit more sparse, with papers of upcoming school events pinned down by magnets of quotes I got her five years ago from a really old independent store on a street my mother grew up on, in London. Funny where things end up, eh?
My fridge – when I had one – had a tiny yellow magnetic notepad with a small beige pencil that sat neatly in a pencil hook on top of the notepad. The words ‘Farmer’s Market’ were written on top of each page of the notepad, faint and grainy, with small drawings of eggs and bread and milk on either side. It was pretty. It was also quaint. I used to jot down what we needed from the shops that week, and the pencil nib was slightly blunt so whatever I wrote came out curly and pretty.
But apart from that, there was nothing else on my fridge. I hated having things on my fridge. It was clutter and mess. This is coming from a girl who used to have a whole wall dedicated to colourful postcards; the more colourful they were, the better. My books would totter in tall piles all around the room and I collected ancient bric-a-brac from charity shops; things like mini old fashioned globes painted in sepia, tiny copper models of ancient things like clothes presses and cast irons and Mrs Tiggy Winkle, a few old pieces of paper and dried flowers, a particular pet rock named Sir Jiles Darcy, pairs of earring, random beads – a whole load of junk, really. All tumbling on the various (few) free surfaces in my bedroom. It was a pigsty, really.
But that was the old me. I am still messy, of course, but much less cluttery, and more inclined to get rid of things I haven’t touched in five or six months. I will never get rid of my books though. You can take my tiny globe and my bric-a-brac away but not my books. The husband of course dislikes this very much, and gets terribly annoyed when I pop into yet another bookshop. Sometimes he physically steers me away when the pile of books in my arms becomes harder to manage. So I suppose I will always have my ‘clutter’ of books.
Well. Who knows what the future holds. Perhaps I may never put anything on my fridge again. Or perhaps I may win a contest for most decorated fridge. -shrugs-
What is on YOUR fridge, dear reader?