(if you don’t see the image sliders here, give it a moment to load š ) 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
(SLIDE THE WHITE ARROW) When we bought our home, it had sat on the market for a number of years. It was in a gorgeous area, and had a surprisingly big square footage. But something was putting people off. If, like me, you devoted a chunk of your student years to watching property shows on daytime television,
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
I always mean to do such a lot, at Christmas. Back before I had a child & a business & a napping addiction, I did used to do a lot. Handmade cards, gingerbread palaces, whole-house decorations. Now, it feels like a tremendous achievement just to string some lights on a tree. And I’m all for
Sleep is one of those things we drastically undervalue in our society. I think about this a lot, as a perpetually sleepy person: how most people are more worried about dehyrdration or sugar addiction than they are their lack of rest. Mention you have a headache, and you’re immediately blanketed in well-intentioned advice. Someone will
January in iPhone snaps… 1. WE HAVE A WEDDING VENUE! PHEW – with only seven months to go, that was feeling kind of close. It’s a big, beautiful cowshed on a big, messy old farm, and I’m suddenly VERY excited to wed this fella of mine. 2. The first snowfall of winter came, meaning the
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,
In the run up to Christmas, I’m growing increasingly twitchy about the deluge of toy clutter about to hit. It feels like I’m constantly trying to find equilibrium, walking a delicate line between a sea of pink plastic in the living room, and sad little Orla playing with a lone broken doll in a corner. Simplifying is so much