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:
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| Fireplace in Woodbine |
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?
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| The before and during. The English Yellow & Greek Blue stages were scary! |
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| Shabby Chic Kitchen. Note the now light floor. |
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| Close up. |
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| Overview |
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!).
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| 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
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