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When I bought a house for the first time three years ago I thought that was it, at last, I’d be able to paint the walls whatever colour I wanted without worrying about what the landlord would say when they realised. Fast forward to last month and I’d managed a teal chimney breast and one feature wall in the bedroom.
I didn’t know what was the matter with me.
In pretty much every rented house I’ve ever lived I’ve completely ignored restrictions on decorating and painted every room in elaborate combinations of pink and yellow, red and gold, teal and chocolate brown. (I just had a trawl back through Facebook to find you a picture of the kitchen where I painted bright pink and yellow on opposite walls, and draped the windows with turquoise sari fabric, but I look too drunk in all of them to be honest. I had some good parties in that kitchen.)
Perhaps it’s just that I don’t like being told that I can’t do or have something, and like to prove otherwise, and the minute I was actually allowed to paint, I wasn’t that bothered anymore?
It’s not a terribly flattering insight – it makes me sound a bit immature and possibly like I have some issues with authority – but it’s probably true.
This month though I got over myself. For ages I’ve been toying with painting the hallway, stairs and landing a lovely coral pink colour, and now I’ve finally done it!
I also may have got a bit carried away with the idea and repainted Belle’s bedroom AND painted my spare room a gorgeous dark green colour, basically turning it into a teeny tiny working men’s club. Go and have a look at my Instagram story highlights under ‘workspace’ to see it in all it’s glory.
Back to the hall though. View Post