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Friday, 21 February 2014

House tour continued ... spare bedroom.

We actually have four bedrooms in this house but only two are set up for sleeping. The others have been appropriated as an office (How could I blog without an office?) and a sewing room. Every girl needs a dedicated sewing room. Well ... I do. Room for all that fabric and thread and ribbon and ... stuff. 


It's my mother's fault. She introduced my sister and me to fabric at a very early age and from then we were hooked.

But, concentrate! Today is about the spare bedroom ... the guest bedroom, if you will. 



I live thousands of kilometres from home. Well, over one thousand. So, I want my friends and family, those special people in my life, to feel they can visit, be comfortable, nurtured, loved.

I know most of my family and friends would happily bunk on the floor if that was all I had, but a real room with a real bed and, in our case, their own bathroom is perhaps a little more enticing.

And who could resist any reason to visit and explore the beautiful harbour city aaannd have free accommodation?

So, when are you coming? The visitors' book is filling up. Don't miss your chance!

Maybe this tour through your room will seal the deal.

It's cosy and a little French-ified. I don't have a lot of Francophile things and, those that I do have, live in this room. Many of my Frenchy things have been gifts, but I'll explain as we go along.



The quilt is VERY special. A gift.

The toile fabric comes from a trip to Paris many years ago for a spectacular birthday celebration for one of my canal-boat-in-France friends. The quilt was pieced and hand quilted by said friend's mother who, eons ago, taught me the art of patchwork and hand quilting and became my friend in the process.

This quilt is one of the last pieces she hand quilted so it is much treasured.


Beside the quilt-festooned-bed, two mismatched side tables, as is my want. One donated by my Paris-birthday friend who no longer required its services.


Topped with a little collection of retro and Frenchy goodies.


How cute is my petite French princess who never puts her elbows on the table?


She has une ami who lives across the room.


Who eats with her mouth closed. Gifts all the way from France.

And the other bedside table, a rattan butler's tray I could not resist, topped with some of my favourite Book Club books, one of my hand made soy candles ...


a special teddy who came to comfort my mother and me when my Nanna left us, a card from a friend, framed because its words are so apt, and space for your goodies as well.


A dresser, silky oak, of course. Aged and beautiful.


A rug from a factory in Turkey which my two canal-boat-in-France owning friends and I found by chance on our crazy drive from Istanbul to Bodrum. The factory taught women from local villages the art of weaving, supplied them with the tools of the trade so they could return home and assist the family to survive.

How could I not buy a rug?


Close by, at the foot of the bed, my Pop's homemade tool box which I rescued from under years of grease and grime.


I love how it proudly shows its years of service and the handiwork of my grandfather.

A spare blanket hides inside just in case you get a little cool. 


And, finally to complete your comfort, some wardrobe space with a cane basket ready at its base for your laundry.


A place for some trinkets.


And some fancy, Washi tape decorated hangers.


What more could you need?

A glass of wine?

A platter of cheese?

A friendly orange moggie?

Our house has them all.

So, when are you coming?


Thanks for reading my blog post. I'd love it if you left a comment so that I know that you've visited.