No, not a handy guide for the new orange leader of the free world – though Lord knows he could probably use it. One of the most common questions I get about my interiors, other than ‘where is your bed from?’ (It was custom-built in the house before we bought it, I’m afraid. I just
This whole house speaks. It creaks and yawns around me as I move, tiptoeing across the floor from the softly curled apostrophe of my daughter’s sleeping form. A comma, a pause, she never quite hits full stop. The doors sing on their hinges, need slamming into their frames. Three floors of ancient pipes clunk and
I have come to a reluctant acceptance that it is impossible to plan a quiet Christmas Day . No matter how much I swear to be steadfast & stubborn, defending our wish to stay home alone December 25th, our plans inevitably tangle up like forgotten fairy lights. So many other people’s hopes and plans are wrapped up in our own,
One of my rules for living simply is to try and stick to possessions that work hard for us – multifunctional things that earn their space in our home by being practical and useful, as well as pretty. One area where I fail fairly spectacularly at this is blankets. Oh, blankets – the prints, the textures, the
Mornings are sort of my favourite. I say sort of, because I’m really quite terrible at getting up: pulling myself out of bed every morning is like leaving the womb again on a daily basis. But once I’m finally free from the duvet’s embrace, I honestly do love the morning: the clean light, the smell
I go on about decluttering a lot, but for good reason, I think. Living with less crap in your home has three big benefits: It gives you more space. I’ve mentioned before the idea of pricing up the square footage of your home that is devoted to storage; how much are you paying for all
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
ten ways I am embracing spring (in February, but whatevs) planting flowering bulbs in the frost-thawed soil lounging (& snoozing) in soft patches of sunlight skipping about in these pastel pink shoes stuffing daffodils into old milk bottles on sunny windowsills reading these poems by the wonderful Mary Oliver washing the windows so the light
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