I Really Want a Record Player

I spent a chunk of my Sunday afternoon once again wandering around Rough Trade East, thinking about how much I wanted to be able to buy something and take it home and have something to play it on. After going to a friend’s last night, whose flat sports an impressive and beautiful collection of books, I felt quite jealous, as my beloved kindle robs me of being able to show off my pretentious taste in literature. I have always told myself that getting a record player and starting a collection is something I’ll do when I move in somewhere I intend on being for a long time, as the whole thing would inevitably be very tedious to move. But if my friends manage to move 100s of books, I could manage to move far fewer vinyls, and I am hoping my next flat will be my base of operations for a couple of years to come. Records are obviously expensive, but I’d be happy having only a very small number of classics to start with, and then could budget myself to one a month and I think they’d make me very happy…

… but perhaps I should focus on finding the aforementioned new flat first.