Is it wrong to say I'm bored of red brick? I keep looking at tubs of matt white emulsion, and thinking...
Aside from guerrilla dulux situations, we've been working on the flat we got back towards the end of last year. We moved shortly after my carpal tunnel was decompressed, I spent nearly six weeks within these walls recovering. From memory I can describe each exposed brick, I even came close to naming them. You look like a Keith... you're a Sheila...
Wherever I've spent a long time, I've sought out little treasures. The Oromia mask is dauntingly beautiful, and the self portrait of a once family friend gushes with warmth and beautiful colour. The ikea expedit units work as perfect storage, especially with the kitchen on the next hit list we've been migrating crockery out of there.
Papa has always lived in locations far from reach. Years ago he commissioned this little tray in the highlands of Kashmir. I use it to collate geology and new growths. Beneath the Rose Quartz is a little crocheted coaster from my Aunt, each stitch is made stronger with all the love that she poured into it.
When Christmas came to an end and it was time to pack up the decorations, I felt that we still had so many opportunities to inject gentle flickering lights.
I strung them out around the back wall in the bedroom.