>If you love something, polish it
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When I was planning the room we were going to decorate for our children, I knew I wanted a big, heavy chest of drawers. Something to hold all their clothes, something too high to climb on and too heavy to pull over (I have lively children, can you tell?!). I knew it wasn’t going to come from a chain store, much as a well-known Swedish chain has come up trumps on a number of occasions for us. We were trying to work out how we could arrange to get to an auction house for a viewing, buy something and transport it back here with two little ones in the car with us when my mother in law pointed something out. The farm she has moved to, a huge, beautiful, half Tudor, half Victorian place which has been home to her new husband’s family for four generations, was at one point in its deeply ingrained history been home to ten people. All those lives lived have left a certain amount of debris in their wake and as a result there are whole rooms full of furniture that is never used- dressing tables, wash stands and chests of drawers. With retirement on the horizon and no-one to take on the tenancy, the house will have to be cleared. As my mother-in-law pointed out, it made sense for us to give a home to one of these great lumps of what could otherwise end up firewood, landfill or charity shop donation. She didn’t have to ask twice.
I will draw a veil over the efforts needed to get this beauty to our house. Suffice to say, while the room was being decorated it sat, slightly sadly, in our garage, still wearing the layer of dust and paint speckles it had gathered through its wilderness years in storage. One drawer knob resided inside the drawer, its fixing long gone. Two of the runners on its nevertheless solid, if simply constructed drawers were off or nearly off. My mother in law asked my reassurance that I’d measured the space it was going into and that I’d be painting it in a nice light shade. I could promise her the former at least!
It wasn’t exactly a pretty sight, even I had to admit, but a combination of sentimentality about the unique spirit and history of the home it had come from and something inexplicable meant that I was already in love. It was time for a makeover.
I began by lining the drawers, using some shirt stripe wallpaper I’d been given a roll of some years back. This was reasonably simple, although not helped by the, ahem, ‘unique’ features of each drawer, where the measurements at the back didn’t match the measurements at the back. I found that glue stick was the best way to fix the paper into the drawer bases.
Fixing the runners back on was just a simple matter of strong wood glue. Then I added a rubbing of candlewax to help them run a bit smoother. The knob presented more of a problem, as although the inside of the knob had a thread, there wasn’t much chance of finding a wooden screw to match. Instead, I cut a short piece of dowel that fitted the hole snugly and added a little wood glue to help it out. The hold in the drawer was slightly larger, so I used matchsticks to help wedge the end of the dowel tightly, along with more wood glue. It doesn’t exactly look pretty, but it does the job of keeping the knob fixed tight.
Finally it was time to polish. I’m one of those slightly obtuse individuals who really enjoys polishing. I find a lot of housework frustrating as it feels like as soon as you finish it’s time to begin again. However, polishing gives an almost instant, gratifying result with a bit of staying power. Not to mention how soothing it is, in a knitting/kneading bread/handsewing kind of way.
The finished result (which does fit the space, by the way!) is still slightly battered, slightly paint speckled. But it holds all the children’s clothes, is safe from their climbing instincts, has heart and soul and I love it!
>Hang out the flags
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Three years ago I made these bunting flags as we prepared a bedroom for our first, gender then unknown, baby. Grandmothers-to-be chipped in with other handmade goodies, including these beautiful beach hut curtains (my mother’s creation). P duly arrived and it became his very own seaside-themed bedroom.
However, when he was less than a year old the world in general, then our world in particular, was rocked by the financial meltdown. C’s place of work closed down and everything, flags included, was packed into boxes as we moved out of our first little family home to go to where he could find work.
We count our blessings that we were much more fortunate than many, even in those challenging times. C found a new job just in time for the redundancy money to stretch. We had to move a few times, but this included a summer at the farm with my wonderful in-laws, which was a joy and an education as well as a financial necessity. It also included a period of renting a house which turned out to be at the other end of the street from the family we now count as firm new friends. In terms of the area, it’s only a little further North and West of where we wanted to end up eventually and of course we have the splendour of the Lake District on our (affordable) doorstep. Last but by no means whatever least, M has arrived into our lives!
All that said and done, however, it hasn’t been an easy or settled couple of years and the fact that, not through our choice, this is the fourth bedroom P has had in his 2 and a half years of life illustrates the point. The fact that it appears that we have navigated the choppy waters for now gives a particular joy to the sight you see above.
When we came to visit this house last year, the back bedroom needed a particular amount of imagination to see its potential. Heavy dark fitted wardrobes were on three walls, taking up a good third of the floor space. Thick paint was slapped onto grotty textured wallpaper and the carpet was thin and grubby. About a month back, after C had destroyed and removed the wardrobes, revealing more hideous wallpaper and large holes in the carpet, my mum came to stay and taught me how to hang lining paper. From then to now, all available evening and weekend hours have seen me (mostly me, with C on babysitting detail) attack the room from top to bottom. Skirting boards and windowsills sanded and painted, wallpaper stripped, lining paper hung and painted, torn and stained ceiling paper removed and ceiling painted (this last yukky job to the accounts on the radio of earthquake in New Zealand and revolution in the Middle East, I’ll never look up without thinking about the madness of Colonel Gadafi!). Finally, yesterday was carpet day and last night P’s first in his new room (M will join him when she’s a bit older).
While there was a certain satisfaction in tearing off nasty old paper and seeing smooth new paint going on, the best bit was undoubtedly dressing the room. The chest of drawers was a spare one from a roomful at the farm, polished up, drawers lined and repaired where necessary (a story for another day) and lugged up the stairs by C and I. The photograph is one my older sister took and gave to me years ago and the print is of my favourite Ben Nicholson painting at Tate St Ives. The lampshade was from our local B&Q and the curtains, as I mentioned before, were my mum’s creation. Then last, but not least, there are the flags. Dug out of the box, ironed (an amazing fact for anyone who knows me well!) and hung up in celebration- of a lovely new room for our lovely children, of a house that’s becoming more and more of a home for us and of a life that’s hopefully going to mean staying put for a while.
>Homemaking
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There are still many, many boxes to unpack, miles of embossed wallpaper heavily painted in hideous colours to scrape off and that’s just to begin the redecorating process, a garden to explore and do…oh goodness, so much to, a washing machine to get working (oh dear!) and of course a baby and a toddler to keep in some form of routine. But, but! The kitchen, while not quite there aesthetically, is unpacked and fully functioning and as far as I’m concerned once I’ve got a pot of tomato sauce bubbling on the hob it’s beginning to look a lot like home.