The Marmite Kitchen

 Bonjour tout le monde.

I have been a busy girl over the last couple of weeks.  I get an idea in my head and become consumed with it.  Really.  I'm sure you will not believe a word, but I am a teeny, weeny bit obsessive.  I wheedle and connive.  I strategise and formulate impressive plans and, um, strategies.  I don't actually mention this state of consumption to anyone, I simply live it.  All else is derelict but for the one, wonderful, conceptual idea I have in my head.

After many sleepless nights, wherein I accidentally forget I have limited space, limited budget and don't actually live in the Seychelles I casually mention my plan to The Husband.

A couple of years ago I decided to take a sledgehammer to the fireplace.  It was a Saturday.  The Tweeps were sleeping-over with the marvellous Crumplies.  The Husband, being sensible, was taking advantage and enjoying the opportunity to savour his coffee in bed.  But I had a vision.

On went the gloves and I removed the old fireplace, (crowbar), smashed up the brick surround, (goggles recommended), and decided to 'find' the, "its got to be there" beautiful brick mantel that was hidden under the 80's monstrosity.  What I found was a lot of hardcore - no problem, we never liked the pond - and no mantel.  Slightly concerned that the house may well fall down I went for a little walk to find a builder.  As if by magic there was a chap building a wall round the corner.  In my best distressed damsel mode I asked if he could possibly, please take a look.  And he did.  And he sucked his teeth.  And stepped outside.  He didn't actually say he was scared to be inside in case the roof caved in, but I got that impression.

Marvellously he happened to have a lintel in his truck.  A lintel destined for the scrap yard.  Or perhaps that should be a perfectly fitting lintel for my new fireplace!  One re-finished oak beam later and a bit of tiling and we had this:

Fireplace in Woodbine

Not too shabby if you ask me.  Not forgetting the new patio, previously a pond.

So, once I make my mind up, do not even think about trying to stop me.  I like to get on with it.  I like thrift.  I like recycling and I love a bargain.  I like to do as much of the work myself as I can.  Am I a control freak?  What do you think?

Back to this weeks obsession.  My kitchen.  I am embarrassed by the poor paint job, (done before I became l'artiste), over an even worse, prior to us, paint job, over very old, possibly oak, cabinetry.

The colour was pretty - Dove grey - but with a dark floor and a mini window, it just was not doing it for me.  Yet I cannot rip it out.

My house needs a little TLC.  I love it, it is an ancient twee little cottage.  The village is beyond anything you can imagine - if you are imagining an English village you have probably just imagined it so perhaps I need to curb my poetic licence here.  It's small.  It's lovely, but the Tweeps are growing.  Their toy collection never was the tasteful row of wooden doodahs of my pregnant imagination.  Their clothes spill out of their eensy, weensy bedrooms.  They are certainly larger than the newborns I was thinking of when we moved in. I know they are growing. Gulp, I wore Tweep No.1's shoes yesterday and they were only a bit too small.  I almost cried. Pride or pain? You tell me.

So the house is shrinking.  We have big plans.  The plans involve architects, diggers, bricks and a smaller garden, but for now we are living with the tinyness.

There you have it.  Now you understand - I cannot bear the thought of spending any money on the kitchen.  The kitchen befits a cottage - it is little, with beams and a cutesy window out to the garden.  There is an opening to the boot room and a pantry, (next project - it's desperate).  But it is dark and gloomy and the cabinets are probably 30 years old and not the best quality to begin with.  So I got to thinking.

What's a girl to do?  Reach for the paint of course - Annie Sloan & Autentico to the rescue.  A 2m roll of ticking I snaffled in the charity shop for £1.50 and some new flooring, (my secret and affordable favorite).  It's not quite finished, and it is certainly not to everyones taste, but my little kitchen has been given a new lease of life for a few more years - I think I will probably re-use the doors in my utility room when we do get that extension.  But ma petite cuisine will suffice for a while longer.  Its a layered look - you may hate it or you may love it.  Here are the before, during and after shots.

Drab to fab or a shabby too far? Is it Marmite?

The before and during.  The English Yellow & Greek Blue stages were scary!

A coat of Annie Sloan Original accompanied by Autentico Milk, add in some sandpaper and wax and you get this:

Shabby Chic Kitchen.  Note the now light floor.

Close up.

Overview

What do you think?  Please do tell.

next up I made a couple of curtain type thingamys for clutter hiding and window dressing, (I don't sew.  Hello Wonderweb and sticky backed velcro!).

No Sew Curtains

I think they are OK for an hours work and less than a fiver all in.

That was the week that was.  Shabby Kitchen finished.  It took me a couple of days to get used to it - this is not like anything you see in the kitchen shops, but is feels heavenly and looks, if I may say so myself, rather batter than I had anticipated.

So do I love it?  I think I do.

Until next time.

M x

It's a new dawn, it's a new day...

And I'm feelin' good!

Oh inspiration has hit.  Inspiration has jumped up, grabbed me by the ankles and bitten me on the Botticelli.   It has gathered momentum and proactively attacked my very core.  I am a sick woman.  I am lamenting the fate of my hands.  Yet despite the constant feel of glue on my cuticles and paper on my tail I am in love.

I have been hit with a new disease.  it is called 'Decoupagitis'.  Highly contagious in the world of furniture restoration and not good for conversation with The Tweeps.  "Mama can we do some painting?" "No, but lets get out loads of vintage wallpaper the glue and...".  I lost them at Vintage.

So why am I newly obsessed?  Why this of course.

Source: Graham & Brown

This beauty popped up on my newsfeed, via Graham & Brown.  Beautiful wallpapered & sanded floorboards. I just wanted them, (despite having cow dung floors - yes really - and no floor boards), so what is a girl to do?

Have a go of course.  I tried a couple of techniques.  Transfers - with mixed results, then simple, good, old fashioned, (yes, its a rather established art), decoupage.  And sanding.  And waxing. And distressing. And waxing a bit more.  And I LOVE it.

I have lost my fingerpads to layers of glue, (need a cat burglar?  I'm your girl, no telltale fingerprints from me.  No Sir).  I have played and toyed and created.  And I am happy as a barrel.

The Tweeps are less enthused.  Tweep No. 2 asked me "Are you going to make that old thing look better mummy?".  Obviously this is a compliment.  She, being only 5, considers all things pre. 2012 ancient   This had been an orange 1980's style pine shelf.  So technically, was virtually around with the Dinosaurs   I decided to forgive her.

Should I be offended that Tweep No. 1 asked me this very morning, "Mama, were pens invented when you were alive?  In the olden days".  Love the addendum son.  Thank you.

Better yet, he asked me if I could remember when everything was black and white.  I'm assuming he meant the TV, if not that is an existential debate beyond my Mummy pay grade.

Actually maybe Tweep No. 1's intellectual capacity should be queried.  He is convinced that there are rather a lot of women wearing Panini's on the worlds beaches.  Sounds soggy, though handy if you need a quick scooby snack.

I digress,  No really, I do.  You want to know about furniture and shabby stuff and whatnot.  Shout it...what was that?  You want pictures?  Go on then.  Twisted my arm.

Display Shelving with decoupage

Love those shelves

Pretty, pretty,

Do you like my little shelf unit?  I love it, but it is for sale so email me, fiona@debell.me if you would like her.

Want to see some more of my experiments with technique? Go on then - as my very good friend likes to say when asked if she would like another glass of Prosecco.

Soon to be appearing on furniture near you.  Loveliness.

Mwah. Mwah.

M x

Butterfly on Crackled paint

Vintage Wallpaper on board

Rosie Posy Paper

Miss Monroe, why are you hiding?

Flutterby Butterfly

Be still my beating heart.

The Naked Truth.

On Tuesday I woke up.  As normal I lounged around in bed, ordered my cup of coffee, (in bed), waited for my bath to be drawn, plumped, (my own, can you believe it?), pillows and generally enjoyed a standard morning in Chateau Debell.

Durning this time the Husband made my coffee, woke The Tweeps, made said Tweepage breakfast, drew my bath, delivered my coffee and ensured that le chien was empty.  I rested my eyes for a few moments. I need my rest.  Mornings are so stressful.

After a peaceful bath, I patted myself dry with my Egyptian cotton bath sheet and wondered into the bedroom where I fully expected the Husband to have The Tweeps ready for inspection.  This was not to be.

I shudder to share this, but, the Husband was naked.  Allegedly he had been naked since Monday night, (being a good girl I had retired at 9pm so had not had to witness the strip).  I almost fainted with shock.

Sometime later The Tweeps gathered round.  They had seen Daddy during the morning, as had I.  They too had failed to take in the nakedness.  Tweep number 1 countered with, 'Daddy, what big eyes you have', (note to self must change reading books, those fairy stories seep into all aspects of family life).  Excellent breeding that boy.  Tweep number 2 just stared.  She could not hide her surprise.

Once we had stumbled over the shock and accepted that sometimes Daddy just likes to do something for himself, we let him get on with it.  No point in pandering.

The Husband tootled off to work.  Naked.  It took his colleagues 2 hours to notice.  Clearly he is working them so hard they are unable to lift their eyes from the screen.  He drove to the office, encountered the reception staff, conversed with his staff and not one of them mentioned his nakedness.

For the first time in many a moon we could see that noble jaw.  That distinguished chin and that heavenly face.  The man I married has emerged like a butterfly from the chrysalis of bristle.

His friends, having not married him hairless and fancy free felt abuse was in order.

Courtesy of an abused husband.

My hubris was claimed.  My husband has a face as smooth as a baby's posterior. All is well with the world.

Time for some partying. Followed by some painting.

Last week was a slow week on the painting front.  In fact I did not manage to pick up a brush. Nor did I paper a thing.  By Friday I was suffering serious withdrawal   Time was flying and I needed to get in the Studio and paint - but the studio was a mess.  My paints were all out of synch.  My brushes bristled.  There was only one thing to do.

Tidy up time.

My lovely studio is now tidy, shiny and all my paints and brushes are within picking distance.  I stumbled over items whose paint needs had eluded me and brought them to the front of my mind.  and top of my list.  It's that time again.  I know you want to see.  So, just for you a picture of this lovely handmade, brand new, console / kitchen cupboard.  Made by my clever friend in the village but despite having its Antoinette coat on for a while I always felt it needed more.  So here we have, in honour of the Husband, my very own 'Candy Striper' (pronounce her second name as you wish).

Candy Striped Console Table

Antoinette & Original Annie Sloan stripes.

Simply because I love a photo, here is my newly organised paint cupboard - the top half of the dresser is 'before' the bottom half 'after'.

My paint studio.

For now, until next time.  Goodbye.

Marie x