Chaos and mischief wrapped in floppy fluff - Introducing Griffin

Pardon me; it seems I fell into a sudden and lengthy silence. Let's just say I've been - ahem - preoccupied, with this little bundle of chaos:

So he was supposed to be a miniature goldendoodle.  I repeat: miniature.

Sure, he was rather miniature when he arrived:

But eight weeks later, we believe that ship has sailed 😅

He is now four months old, so only time will tell just how large this beast will grow.

Anyway. Puppy parenting took us somewhat by surprise (cliché ahoy!). It totally threw us, just how much attention this little fella would demand of us, how often we'd have to get on our hands and knees and wipe lakes of piss from our brand new laminate, how creative we would need to become in keeping him calm, entertained, and away from our feet with his stabbing fangs. Hence the lack of blog posts - and the forgotten piles of laundry, the skipped to-dos, the weeds dominating the garden, and so on 😏

But we seem to have finally settled into a kind of routine, and we are (mostly) able to catch those wees in time and make sure they end up in the garden soil rather than on some precious piece of furniture. We are also exploring surrounding areas and finding nice countryside walks, as well as new doggy pals. And little Griffy is getting skilled at fetch, fist bumps, and other useful canine manouevres.

Smug after his first official groom sesh

Pre-groom (!) with best mate Ziggy

Meanwhile, things have been happening around the house and garden (it is FAR easier to paint a living room without a pooch insisting on dipping his nose in the paint tray!), and I'll see if I can catch up with everything in upcoming posts.

Until then.

Majsa x

Nearly kitchen time!

Our trusty Bosch workbench has served as a reliable kitchenette while we have been between kitchens. Upon it we have made tea and spread toast and chopped veg for the soupmaker and - mainly - dished up indulgent and well-deserved takeaway meals. Camping indoors remains our motto.

Our boxed-up kitchen arrived while we were preparing the room for fitting.

A bright spring sun shone in through the window, and a cool breeze eased the painting fumes. Dirty old walls soon became fresh and new. Outside, neighbours passed and dogs barked, and armies of daffodils danced in their flowerbeds. T'was a lovely way to pass an afternoon.

Once the painting was done, I left Mike to carve up and remove the lino underlay. After a minute, I heard him switch off the multi-tool.

"Finished!" he shouted with a suspicious tinge of self-satisfaction. I walked out into the kitchen and found him straddling a carved-out message: "Spurs r shit"

Muggy little Arsenal fan 😍  COYS COYS COYS!

Anyhow. Kitchen primed and painted, we left two capable lads to fit the thing while we escaped to our seaside holiday resort (a.k.a. Mike's parents' house). Here we rest in peace while our house rumbles and rattles, and when we get back, we'll have a whole kitchen! With a tap and a hob and everything! #redefiningluxury

Let's see what this will look like come Friday... Meanwhile, I curl up with my driving theory books and crack on with this whole becoming-an-adult business.

From Funk-hole to Bedroom: A Renovation Story

When we first arrived at the sorrily neglected Topsy Turvy, this was the state of the kids' bedroom which was to become ours:

It was the saddest little nursery we had ever beheld. Those black stains mark where their son's bed had been. Ick. We set up camp and got to work.

We used barrier pillows to separate us from the sticky walls.

Mike set about scrubbing the walls with game-changing sugarsoap.

Energy levels are initially soaring...

...followed by quiet contentment and a sore shoulder.

Then the sickly carpet came up and was stashed under the stairs until we could get a skip. 

Underneath the wallpaper, we found Pumba lurking with a cheeky grin. 

After doing the usual spackle-and-sand routine, we could finally begin painting. We relished the relief of the moment.

May as well do it in style.

It soon became apparent why Pumba had been covered up by wallpaper. Using the best trade paint we could find, still Pumba wasn't ready to take his leave. Three coats on, he was still peering out through the emulsion:

After six coats we were fairly satisfied, but if you squint, you can still sense the presence of the grinning warthog, watching over us in our slumber.

Once the murky ceiling had become white, and the icky yellow-lilac walls were covered in Valspar's Sleeping Inn, it was time to pick a floor. Decisions, we have found, are the hardest part of renovating, and we put off this difficult step for as long as we could ignore it hanging over us.

We then attempted to lay the floor ourselves, because B&Q tutorials make it look so god-darned easy. We did our best, but mistakes were made and we eventually ran out of floorboards.



We left it in a half-baked state for a few weeks, until professional laminate guy Jason came to do the rest of the house, and kindly offered to fix our mess for free 😏



Aaand.... it's done! Whoopee!! It looks amazing. Long gone are the greasy walls, creepy beehives, lilac sheen and diseased carpet. At night, I lay awake admiring the smooth covings and soft-grey walls. Through the skylight we can see the glinting stars and the waxing moon, or listen to a light rain pitter-pattering against the slanting glass. It's true what they say, that renovating truly makes it your own. We have changed every single inch of this room, and it is a joy to curl up in for a snooze. Now we just need a bed.

Oh, we do love our Topsy Turvy house. And it feels like it is finally starting to love us back.

Stairway efforts

So I've been sanding and painting stair railings for three days straight. Note my middle finger plaster, where the skin has hardened from resting the brush on there for too many hours of too many days in a row 😅 

These stairs have been through a lot. We've removed the fusty dark green carpet with its stubborn dog hairs and questionable stains, scrubbed the greasy walls and in some places peeled off the grubby magnolia coat (see Mike in action below), sanded and painted railings, skirting boards and dado rails, painted the ceilings and walls (occasionally whilst swaying on a precariously perched ladder)... Yep, it's as they say - it's always more work than you think, and then some!

Aah, peeling paint... Surprisingly satisfying.

Now the stairs are very nearly finished. A couple more days of white satinwood, and voilà - the difference is astonishing. It's going to look so fresh and pretty, and for the final stretch we're in good company with the Ramble boys, Kermode & Mayo, the Radiolab team, Ira Glass, and the History Extra nerd herd. Podcasts are crucial for maintaining sanity.

Fresh and white and lavlee!

Kitchen transformation underway

The ragged old kitchen is finally gone. This morning it looked like this:

And now it looks like this:

Lucky the bathroom sink is big enough to do dishes and fetch drinking water. Well, at least we have an excuse to eat out.

Next, an electrician is coming in to replace all the sockets and switches. Then our builder will come to plaster the walls and ceiling. Then we have five days to prime, paint, and install ceiling lights. THEN WE WILL GET OUR NEW KITCHEN. Aahahhahahahha. Finally. 

Country living in a city

It is such a wonder to live in a buzzing city, and yet have so much nature nearby. Last weekend we went and rented ourselves a little starter plot in the allotments down the road. It's right at the back, overlooking fields and the railway. I LOVE RAILWAYS. And fields. And allotments. Everyone there was so friendly and welcoming, dressed in wellies and grandfather caps like good old clichés. Our first job will be to build a compost bin, which hopefully we'll have time to do in a few weeks - just gotta finish a whole lotta bits at the house first.

Our new plot

Mike and Rosemary, the allotments' leading lady

We have also befriended a Wincheap terrier called Betsy. We take her on walks through the orchards nearby, where neat rows of apple trees climb up and down the hills under gentle afternoon sun. Betsy runs ahead, sniffing the bushes and nibbling at fallen fruit. My walking boots sink into the soft, muddy ground, and moody clouds scud across the wide open sky.

Sometimes, when I need a break from dizzying paint odours or swirling sanding dust, I nip outside to take a walk through Canterbury City Cemetery. Just a few minutes away, this vast cemetery stretches out into different sections and hidden glades, and old graves sit silently in the shade of old, lofty trees. It's green and quiet and peaceful, and such a joy to have for a neighbour. 

So it doesn't matter if the house is messy and everything is topsy turvy. Because outside, everything is sweet.

And, because we have to have some pigeon action... 

The speckled beauts of 8 St Dunstan's Terrace

Till next time.

Majsa x

From manic to mindful, and back again

Renovating puts all kinds of pressure on my fragile brain. First there was the decision-making, choosing colours and floors and skirting shapes and cupboards and handles and all sorts. Every single little thing - will it look good? With the immense range on offer, is that really what we want? And will it match with everything else?

Then there was the planning. Finding the right people for each job, and fitting it all into the schedule. But if the kitchen is being fitted that week, it means we can't fit the carpet until after that work is done. And if the laminate is going down on Friday, I must make sure all the ceilings, walls, skirtings, doors and doorframes are painted and dry. And oh, the floorboards must sit in the room for three days beforehand to acclimatise. Do we have enough paint? Do we have enough brushes? On and on.

For a neurotic OCD worrier like myself, it's hard to switch off. My head is constantly spinning with to-do lists and seeking to assure myself that I haven't made some epic mistake. I'm also walking a fine tightrope in trying to find a way to enjoy the present, disorder and dust and all, rather than just looking forward to it all being done. Well hey, at least spring is here and we can see the light at the end of the tunnel. And we're still loving having a sofa 😁 #redefiningluxury

Majsa x

The coming of spring

Perhaps the worst part of this renovation job has been the dark and the cold. When you must use the scanty daylight hours for indoor work, and you wrap up for the day with only the jaundiced glow of a barren lightbulb dangling sadly from the once-fashionable artex ceiling, you'll end up flirting with Vitamin D deficiency and a mild depression. The job before us seemed insurmountable and, at times, a rather foolish undertaking.

Then a wall came down and a sofa arrived (somewhere to SIT, hallelujah!), and things started to feel achievable. We chose our new kitchen in a cosy showroom, armed with chocolate chip cookies and steaming cups of coffee. And, at long last, there is a definite sense of spring in the air. Bashful snowdrops are appearing in patches, the St Dunstan's Terrace pigeons are stretching their wings in the afternoon sun, and we leap forward with a renewed sense of yay.

While usually we are inside breathing sanding dust and wrestling with sticky Polyfilla, yesterday I worked outdoors as I covered our newly manufactured skirting boards in a fresh coat of satinwood. Although our decidedly humble garden currently looks like a small scrapyard, I felt deeply content as I stood bathing in the golden afternoon light, dipping my brush in the tin with a glop and feeling the brush's bristles bend against the boards. Having previously gone from country girl to city dweller, I now revel in the exotic sounds of suburbia - a neighbour's car door closing, a couple of kids chatting as they pass, a dog barking; all to the backdrop of distantly humming traffic and the backyard birds' mellifluous song. Yep, this is going to be great.

Oh, the relief of placing your weary behind on something other than a springy mattress!

The wall is down! Suddenly anything feels possible ^_^

Don't you just love a house...

...with plenty of nooks and crannies?

Sure - until you have to renovate it! Below are my measurements for skirting boards. Yikes!

(Still love it though 😄)

What hides in the carpet

Being from progressive, hygiene-aware, wooden-floor Sweden, I was never a big fan of carpets. Especially the muggy, sickly carpets of our Topsy Turvy Manor. We borrowed a small vacuum from Mike's parents, and dragged it over the carpets until our arms ached. Yet they barely felt any cleaner. So I had taken to wearing my crocs everywhere, even bringing them to the shower so as to avoid having to put my newly washed tootsies on the sticky fibers.

In eager anticipation of ripping them up and replacing them with fresh laminate, we got a Dyson to keep the place as clean as possible. It's a whirring, whizzing beast of a machine, with spinning carpet bristles and all sorts of cool mechanisms. And just LOOK what came up from ONE TINY ROOM which we had already hoovered loadsa times!

A juicy close-up for your enjoyment

A juicy husband for your enjoyment

The paintful truth

Our new home requires plenty of mysterious alterations and upgrades which we have no choice but to leave in the hands of qualified professionals. But there's one thing we can handle ourselves, and that's painting. Seems easy enough, and I've done it plenty of times before - just slap on a couple of coats and ta-daa, you have yourself a blank canvas upon which to build your new life. Yay, right? 

Well, of course it's not that simple. Mercifully, my selective memory had erased the extent of work required for this job:

Measure walls, survey room in daylight and lamplight, pick a colour, doubt your decision and procrastinate with episodes of Monkey Life, study painting leaflets, ogle Pinterest, finally decide on a colour, walk to store and purchase, while suppressing a rising fury at the impossible amount of choice available. Take a closer look at the room and notice several cracks and holes. Go back to store, buy paint, rollers, brushes, Polyfilla and sandpaper. Throw in some chocolate. This is a good start.

Then, forcefully remove 30-year-old skirting boards and flimsy floorboards, shove all in hallway thus obstructing passageway, plaster edges, fill holes, leave to dry, watch some Monkey Life. Sandpaper dried plaster, find some more holes, fill and smooth, leave to dry; back to Monkey Life. Vacuum, scrub ceiling, scrub walls, accidentally scrub off some plaster which hadn't dried properly, re-plaster, leave to dry. Tape all edges, paint all edges, paint ceiling, paint walls; repeat. 

One room alone takes days and days and days! And I knew this! But I conveniently suppress it every time, because self-preservation.

So with the required amount of devoted TLC, our office-to-be has gone from this:

To this:

Via this:

Floors and skirting boards (and everything else) to follow. This room has become a sanctuary of peace; a testament to what is possible, when all else looks like this:

Onwards and upwards.

Majsa x