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Honey, I’m home …?

We have now been in the house for 6 days and already, I am starting to feel a familiar anxiety creeping in.

Ever since I can remember, I have been overly conscious of what people think of me. When I was younger my parents were always at pains to point out that “Bethan, nobody else could care less what you are doing” but unfortunately this has not been a lesson I have found easy to learn and still, at the grand old age of 31, I worry myself sick about how I come across to both strangers and people I know.

We bought this house from a developer who had previously let it to a young family. It’s not decorated to my taste and it has not been kept up to a standard I would have, but there is nothing horribly offensive about the decor (apart from the wallpaper in the bedroom possibly 😉 ) and after a good clean it was certainly ready to move into. That is, of course, if you are a normal person. But I am not a normal person …

After less than a week of living here, I am already dreading visitors. What if they think the light fittings in the hall and living room are of our choosing? I’ll have to make sure I tell them straight away that we are going to take them down in a few weeks. And the walls downstairs are kind of magnolia, and I only do white so I’ll have to make sure I let people know that we are repainting the entire interior as soon as we can. And that vestibule door; I hope they don’t think we hung that? Of all the doors to chose from, that would be the last one I’d have bought. And while I’m on the subject, maybe if I stand the new kitchen blind up in the kitchen, people will realise that the one already there is not staying. I could go on …

I honestly feel like handing out a leaflet (or audio guide – I’m down with the kids) at the door explaining to visitors what has and hasn’t been authorised by me. If I walked into somebody’s home with the knowledge they had just moved in, I wouldn’t even look at the paintwork or furniture or heaps of unpacked boxes; I would focus on the space and the potential. Why can’t I be so understanding of myself?

Here are a few photos that I snapped while Gwenn was napping. As frustrating as this stage is, I’m also really looking forward to sharing the renovation works as times go on as part of my (small but growing!) Simple Life series. Hopefully any future updates will show me in a slightly better light than these ones do!!!

Until next time …


(PS This post was written entirely using the WordPress app and 3G, as we are Wifi-less until the 22nd!!)


After having a shared garden for the last 18 months, even a foldy chair in a concreted yard is heaven!

It’s fair to say that searching “laundry room” on Pinterest have never resulted in anything like this:

At 6:30 this morning, an oak shelf (that Andrew made himself and was very proud of) carrying about 9 pint glasses and what turned out to be a few too many cookbooks, fell off the wall and sent tiny shards of glass flying across the kitchen. This is all that remains …

This is what happens when you turn up at the allocated spot in Ikea and there is just a blank space. All the chairs, no table.

Transom windows and sleeping babies do not mix. Thank God for microwave packaging!

Operation “Completely make over this God awful bathroom” begins this weekend!


I’m linking up with the Binky Linky via the fabulous Twin Mummy and Daddy

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