Wednesday, September 29, 2010

a brighter living room, and jelly babies

It's a long and lonely road, renovating a house. When the bathroom was nearly finished, we thought that as the place was so full of pink dust we'd add to the chaos by replacing the living room ceiling (Artex, lovingly put up by someone in the seventies), the dark grey slate-effect tiles (ditto, but down), and removing the fire surround to expose the original cottage fireplace. Easier typed than done.


At last, the new tiles are down, the ceiling up, and I've done more of my characteristically patient painting while breaking up fights between Pink and Blue Daughters over who has the smartest shadow.


The large old fireplace is uncovered, and all we're waiting for is the ivory stove. If ever you want an ivory stove, forget it. It'll always be on the verge of showing up, but never actually appear. And it's never the fault of the person you're speaking to.


And finally, a proud moment. Scottish Husband bought a packet of jelly babies the other day. No artificial flavourings or colourings. Superfoods, essentially: pure anti-oxidant, dusted with omega-3. We use them as bribes. But here's the thing: he put them, totally unprompted, all by himself, into an empty Bonne Maman jam-jar and placed it on the Bonne Maman shelf. Beat that, lifestylers.

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

bathroom products styling assistant required

This is a special post for louloulovesbooks, who commented that she was trying to peer at my bathroom products.


Burt's Bees Radiance eye creme would keep me young, possibly even radiant, if only I could remember to use it.


Lots of soap. Very clean.


Favourite perfume. Wards off ankle boots, socialism and reality TV.


Clean and rose-scented. Bonus points.


Impractical bottles.

A new vacancy for a Pretty Far West Bathroom Product Styling Assistant will shortly be announced. The successful applicant will apply successfully. Ancillary duties will include banishing garish products from the public gaze, monitoring radiance levels, and daily opening and closing of the very labour-intensive Roman blinds. Would suit experienced fusspot.

Thursday, September 16, 2010

hoping to be Aunt Dahlia

My Blue Daughter isn't merely three years old; that would be beneath her dignity. She's 3-4, she declares, just as the labels on her blue clothes state. The 4 gives a gravitas and sense of aspiration, helping her to be within reach of Pink Daughter, who has realised the threat and is now 5-6.

Me, I'm aged 39-40, and it's important to bolster the dignity of that impending 40 by acquiring some more original artwork.

[a delightful meep miniature...]

[...from Shell Sherree, who is a dear]

These pretty ACEOs from Shell Sherree are my latest purchase (I didn't know what an ACEO was until I looked it up on know-it-all Wikipedia). This is surely the perfect Blogtopian art, charming and airy as a browse through the Hermes website. I'm convinced it's what wealthy Aunt Dahlia, proprietor of Milady's Boudoir, would display in her drawing-room along with Ronald Searle drawings and biscuit-tin lids. At 39-40, perhaps I can start turning into Aunt Dahlia.

Monday, September 13, 2010

finished bathroom in sight

This is the new bathroom, a work in progress.



It needs lights, a different mirror and that's about all. Perhaps fluffy new towels and bath-mats in a delicate sea-green or dinosaur-bone white. More botanical paintings. Sunshine. Helium balloons that say 'It's a Bathroom!"


A stained glass window would be lovely but that's an aspiration too far for now.



As the Duchess of Painting, I'm glad the end is in sight. Boring old painting. I'd much rather read your blog than paint.
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