(if you don’t see the image sliders here, give it a moment to load 🙂 ) Living room. I feel like the images speak for themselves here – less is more, white makes spaces bigger and brighter, burgundy… doesn’t really. The handrail by the stairs at the back needs to go next, and the awful ceiling
Can we talk about small things for a moment? About the impossibly sweet and nostalgic accoutrements of childhood. A little blue cardigan hanging from a big hallway hook. Miniature shoes lined in tidy little rows. Small, pudgy hands clutching smaller, balding Sylvanian rabbits, who in turn hold impossibly tiny jugs and teapots and cakes. Most days I am immune
Do you ever wish you could just escape? It’s a pull I’ve felt my whole life, I think – the temptation to just up sticks & run for the hills. For years I kept a bag half-packed for when the urges hit; some hotel miniature toiletries, a change of clothes, an empty notebook and thick,
I’m at home when I hear her alarm call. I know Matilda, my single remaining hen is safely locked in her outdoor run, having just been out to feed her that morning; but still, she continues to cry. Outside, I greet her, stroke her feathers, & realise she isn’t calling. She’s still and silent, preening
It’s almost exactly a year since we placed our offer on this house, and committed to actually doing it; to leaving the city-living we’d always known, and moving out to somewhere sleepy, rural and green. I remember being desperately excited, sure it would never really happen for us, but also, particularly in the small hours
I was the kind of child who lived in a perpetual daydream; the cars were boats, the roads canals, and the clouds on the horizon, above the houses, were definitely snow covered hills. Some days I’d stare at them so long & hard I couldn’t even be sure any more; were there mountains there? Had
I really like Christmas. It’s sentimental, I know, but I just really like it… It’s nearly here. I’m snatching quiet moments here & there, listening to my favourite Christmas songs, doing the simple creative things that make me feel connected to this new home. Weaving wreaths & garlands from foraged evergreens, baking spiced snowflakes and
It’s an endless struggle in our home; for every thing we let go of, a thousand new things call our name. I’m so easy to market to – despite an entire lifetime of buying and buying and nothing changing, I’m still full of hope that the right purchase will transform me into Advert Girl –
So grateful to call this amazing Dream House ours for a lifetime. A few of my favourite reasons… the front If you have eyes you should be able to see why. Our front door has a big rough-cut old key and above it, under the creeper, you can just make out the old lettering from