It’s a strange summer we’re having when something so mundane as opening up the patio doors becomes an almost momentous occasion. But such a has been the weather, I feel like trumpets should sound every time there’s a break in the rain and I can finally turn the handles and use the terrace as an extension of the living room.
So, the living room. The magnolia paradise. The mellow yellow room of gloom. That room. It’s done. Mostly done. Done enough that I can sit back on the sofa and put my feet up without casting an analytical eye around the room and immediately wanting to get up and change something. Done enough for now then, let’s say. And it only took a mere six months … five months to faff about with paint samples only to opt for my usual pure brilliant white, three weeks to transform the walls at a pace of one coat per one small section every two days or so, and the remaining time to shuffle furniture one inch to the left and then back again. Speedy at making over rooms, I am not.
I'll be honest, I didn't believe that anything could top the gin bar. I mean, a gin bar. In the corner of the living room. I felt like I'd made it. It even made the yellow-toned walls ever so slightly pale in to insignificance. Ever so slightly. After all, yellow walls are never insignificant. And not in a good way. Hooray for the recent transformation to pure brilliant white.