Art and soul

I am happy to admit that I am a terrible artist. As a child, I was in awe of those television programmes where Tony Hart, armed with tins of paint and fat emulsion brushes, created a masterpiece on the wall in a few deft strokes. I desperately wanted to be that talented but after three years of high school reports which predictably stated, ‘She usually tries’ it came as a relief to myself and the art department staff when I could finally, blessedly drop the subject for good. That said, I love painting: even wide expanses of fresh plasterboard needing coat after coat of emulsion don’t faze me (good job since we’ve had plenty here over the last few months) but I am never so happy as when I can indulge my passion for colour and a little creativity. This week, then, has been a time of great painty pleasure.

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My first project was to make a name sign which eventually can be fixed to the house wall (ah yes, there’s another big painting job in the pipeline), using a lovely slab of slate that Roger had rescued from a tumbledown wall in our field. I wanted to make something that would reflect the feel of our home and our love of the outdoors; something simple, bright, colourful and fun where the name was legible but not dominating. The whole point of sharing this is that it shows you don’t need one jot of artistic skill in order to be artistic; purists may think my approach is cheating, but I prefer to see it as innovative! So, armed with a fortifying mug of tea, I went forth to create.

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My calligraphy skills being no better than my art ones, I did the obvious thing: found a font in our word-processing program, blew up the size then traced it carefully from the screen. Having no intention of painting anything freehand, I then got busy with an ancient stencil; a lot of messing with a simple box of children’s acrylic colours and far too much fun later, a sign emerged. A couple of coats of exterior varnish and it was all ready for business. Something from nothing once again!

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We reached  a great milestone this week in finally being able to move into the room upstairs. One of the knock-on effects is that all the spare bedroom furniture could be moved out of the kitchen/living area and everything rearranged a little. I decided it was time to brighten up some bits of old furniture, starting with a very basic pine shelf unit and a nesting table for what is now officially the guest bedroom. I set up a painting studio outside and, since I was using a universal primer, I threw in an old metal milk churn for good measure.

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While that all dried, I set about revamping another nesting table indoors. We have a large black halogen lamp which is brilliant to knit, crochet, sew and read under at night but it is such an ugly thing; I can’t do anything to pretty it up but I thought I could at least create a colourful table for it to sit on. My other motive for this little project was to try out chalk paints before committing to use them on our old linen chest of drawers which has been desperate for a new paint job for several years (decades, actually). Chalk paints really are the ‘in’ thing and I have to admit I’m not a lover of fads; I have quite happily and successfully painted furniture for many years with leftover bits of gloss paint and yes – truly – even emulsion. However, I’ve been really impressed and inspired by some beautiful pieces of furniture Adrienne has created with chalk paints so I decided to give them a go. Before starting, I did a fair bit of online research, read plenty of advice and then chose to ignore most of it. I didn’t opt for the designer brand that everyone raves about but instead bought a Spanish variety which was a lot kinder on my pocket and offered a good palette of luscious colours to choose from. I didn’t buy a special brush for the paint, just used an old one; neither did I invest in a special wax brush or even special wax as Roger informed me he had a tin of brushing wax in his Man Shed (honestly, that place is an emporium!).

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So how did it go? Well, the paint was a dream to use (I love the fact you don’t have to prime) and went such a long way; so far, in fact, that I changed my plan for the bedroom table and decided to chalk paint that, too, rather than use the eggshell satin I had lined up for it. The colour is absolutely gorgeous; it’s called ‘Mediterranean Blue’ and is a deep, dreamy cobalt, just beautiful.

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When it came to the waxing bit, I knew I could well be using completely the wrong stuff and I did have a minor panic when the (yellow) wax immediately took the colour down a few shades. I was also slightly concerned about how many articles I’d read about this part being very hard work. Well, it’s all relative, I suppose: to me, shifting several tonnes of gravel by hand is hard work. So is giving birth. Brushing a few coats of wax on and buffing it off again just seemed like a very pleasant wet afternoon’s activity, especially as the yellow effect disappeared with the wax and a lovely, lustrous shine surfaced. Job done.

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So now that I know what I’m doing, I’m all set to tackle the linen chest with some more of that lovely blue paint coupled with ivory. By the way, I won’t be distressing any of these chalk painted bits and pieces. I know we all have different opinions – which is to be celebrated – but as a country mouse born and bred,  I have never understood the fashion for filling rural homes with so-called shabby chic. In fact, it’s very much because the linen chest has been steadily distressing itself over many years that I feel the need to paint it again. Recognise that old stencil, by the way? Definitely time for a new look!

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I gave the shelf unit a couple of coats of eggshell ‘Eau de Nil’ to match our interior doors and it looks right at home tucked into the guest bedroom.

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Anyway, back to that milk churn. When we moved here, we found we had been left a house and several outbuildings full of furniture and miscellaneous items; most of it was broken down rubbish which the friendly chaps from the town hall kindly came and took away – it took them two trips in a very large van. Boy, did we have rubbish! The two milk churns, however, were something I wanted to hang on to as I had a cunning plan for them. I love the fact that they represent a little bit of the property’s history and I wanted them outside where they could be seen and enjoyed as big planters. Well, of course – if in doubt, add flowers! I could have left them as they were but something inside was whispering bright colours so I opted for ‘Summer Sky’ which seems somehow appropriate (or at least, it will be once the current run of crazy storms here has worn itself out). I think this will be the perfect eye-catching foil for flowers of any colour; just look at how scrumptious those beautiful deep magenta tulips look against that bright, bright blue.

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However, a nod to the colour wheel says orange and nasturtiums were the first to come to mind. I love nasturtiums and particularly the way they flourish here in the wild, hurling themselves down banks and verges in a brazen tumble of flaming glory in May and again in September. Last year they self-set amongst the sweet corn and climbing beans and as that patch is now under a poytunnel, little seedlings are popping up like mushrooms in the warmth.

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I’ve lifted three of them and transplanted them into a pot just the right size for nestling into the top of the churn in the hope of a bright and sunny waterfall against the blue; once they have finished it will be easy enough to replace them, maybe with a riot of geraniums. Whatever happens, the milk churn should bring a splash of summer colour and a smile or two to our less-than-pretty courtyard. Now for the second one. Blue again? Mmm, still thinking about that one.

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My final paint project and if nothing else, this one proves at least that I haven’t been on a complete bluefest all week! Here is another piece of ‘inherited’ furniture and let me say straight away that it’s dire. It’s wonky: last year I used it as a painting step and wobbled off it more times than I can remember. At some point in its history the seat has completely split in two and has been ‘mended’ supremely badly with a bizarre arrangement of staples. It is riddled with woodworm. In short, it’s a piece of junk which would best serve as morning sticks . . . so why have I rescued it from that fate and painted it?

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Well, the answer lies at the end of our woodland track, a ten minute walk from the house and one of my absolutely favourite places. We have a long term plan to make a two- person seat here; in fact, we even have the base from an old single futon put aside just for that purpose. The problem is, it’s a long way down the priority list and in the meantime, I really wanted somewhere I could perch and while away a little time, so the wonky stool seemed just perfect. I’ve used the paint we have for a garden seat in the orchard; it’s called ‘Olive’ and definitely veers towards the grey side of green which is fine as I didn’t want it to stick out like a sore thumb. A couple of coats and off I went up the lane with my stool tucked under my arm.

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One of the things I love about the woodland spot is that it’s like entering another world; turning into a different valley, the gentle murmurings of village life disappear and all that is left is the sound of a mountain stream tumbling to join the river, a cacophony of birdsong and the soft susurration of the wind through the trees. When the sun shines, the glade is flooded with soft light but I enjoy it in the rain, too, Why not? Armed with my trusty brolly, it’s the Asturian way. This is my ‘sitting place’, somewhere I can think and ponder, daydream and plan, mull and meditate; it’s a place that makes me open my eyes and mind to the small wonders around me; it’s a place that feeds my soul and makes my heart sing. It’s my little haven of mindfulness.

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It’s a place where I can just BE . . . but now I can do that in (wobbly) comfort. How wonderful is that? 🙂

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Sofa . . . so good

I’m so very excited about writing this blog that I just want to dive in and write and write and write – there is so much to share! However, there is no need to rush.  I must be patient and take my time; after all, time is one of the biggest and very best things we have ‘bought’ for ourselves by dropping out. We have time to do all that we need to do, all that we want to do and time just to be. Quite honestly, that is priceless.

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Morning dew on geraniums . . . it’s wonderful to have the time to notice and enjoy such a simple but beautiful thing.

So . . . I’ll let this blog develop slowly –  maturing as it goes like a good cheese or wine – and weave the hows, whys and wherefores of our simple life into tales of our daily living. There are so many incredible and inspirational blogs out there on a similar theme and I’ve been trying to work out where exactly we fit into the scheme of things. Are we frugal? In the dictionary definition ‘economical in use or expenditure; prudently saving or sparing; not wasteful’ then yes, we are . . . but not in a mean or tight way. We don’t spend much money but we don’t feel like we go without – quite  the opposite, in fact. Are we minimalists? According to Joshua Becker Becoming Minimalistminimalism is the intentional promotion of the things we most value and the removal of everything that distracts us from it – so yes, that’s us too, to a large extent. How about self-sufficient? Ironically, in terms of food production we are less self-sufficient than we have been in the past, mainly because we have decided against the tie of livestock, for the time being at least. That said, the bulk of our fruit and vegetables comes from the garden, we love to forage for wild foods and although we buy other foods, every meal and all our bread is made from scratch.  It’s not just about food, either. We are self-sufficient in other essentials such as fuel for the stove and if I’m allowed to count it, labour – we’re practical people and can turn our hands to most things so we don’t pay other people to do things we can do ourselves.

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Growing, harvesting, cooking and eating vegetables and fruit from the garden is an important and wonderful part of our life.

In May 2016, we moved ourselves from the UK to northern Spain with only the possessions we could fit into a hired transit van, car and two trailers. Our new home is in a stunning mountain location but that is pretty much all that could be said for it at the time. On good days, it was an ‘ interesting project’ but a more realistic evaluation would be ‘complete hovel’! However, we could see there was plenty of potential to transform it into a comfortable, cosy, happy home: all it required was a modest amount of expenditure and several years of work. We knew that the house needed a new roof so we had budgeted for that and put the money aside to pay local builders – we certainly weren’t going to tackle that job ourselves! The rest, though, has been down to us and we are paying for the materials as we go along out of our normal monthly fund which proves just what is possible on a meagre income.

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Home, sweet home: a project in waiting.

Anyway, after months of work this week we finally reached an exciting milestone: Return of the Sofa.  Our house is small and we have decided to create a cabin-style feel to the interior by having one open kitchen / living space with a bedroom and bathroom off. With the flooring down and decorating done (just a few fiddly finishing bits and pieces left to do) we rescued our sofa from the barn where it has spent many months wrapped in tarpaulin and introduced it to its new home. We bought the sofa roughly twelve years ago to sit at one end of our kitchen. As a family, we have always enjoyed what I would call ‘sociable’ cooking: no individual slaving away in the kitchen on their own to cook dinner, but all hands on deck whether to help, hinder or simply keep the cook company. Our resident teenagers and their friends loved that sofa and many happy evenings have been spent on it, chatting, laughing and playing music. What a state the poor thing was in when we unwrapped it; it has certainly had a life!

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Battered, faded and slightly mouse-nibbled . . . it’s good to have our sofa back again!

Now I realise there are many people out there who would have got rid of something so tatty many years ago and certainly wouldn’t have dragged it all the way to Spain . . . but this is where our frugal approach is so valuable, because in my eyes all it needed was a bit of TLC. A good vacuuming went a long way to cleaning it up but there’s not a lot to do about the obvious wear and tear except cover it.

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This is definitely beyond repair with needle and thread . . . 

First, a heavy cotton throw (which we have had for so long I can’t even remember where it came from), freshly washed and dried in the sunshine, then the ‘Coast’ ripple blanket I had spent many happy weeks making over the summer just for this purpose. Ta dah!

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Okay, I have no idea what’s hot and happening in the world of sofa fashion right now and I suspect it’s not this . . . but who cares? It’s clean, bright, slightly quirky, warm and incredibly comfy, so why replace it? Put it this way, the cost of a new one would pay our shopping bill for several months: that’s why we live how we do!

Back to the sociable cooking and seventeen years ago we bought a couple of breakfast bar chairs (not sure if that’s the right term) to accommodate extra kitchen dwellers at worktop height. After much use the original bottle green paint had all but rubbed away so I have had a happy time in the sunshine this week giving them a facelift with some spare eau-de-nil eggshell paint I’ve been using on the doors. Here’s the first one installed, looking good as new.

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Looking around the furniture in our living area, I suddenly realised that the sofa is actually the newest thing there; we’ve had everything else for longer. Pine desk – 15 years; cane comfy chairs – 17 years; bookcase –  20 years; coffee table- 20 years; butcher’s block – 23 years; kitchen table and chairs – 25 years. We haven’t bothered to spend money updating because we’re bored or our ‘stuff’ is unfashionable – it’s functional, we’re happy with it so why change? I actually love the history in our kitchen table, not just all the happy meals we’ve shared around it with family and friends but all the little doodlings you can see in the right light, left in the soft pine by our children busy with their artwork, homework or whatever. I studied for my degree at that table and sewed my daughter’s wedding dress on it, too. So many stories, so much love.

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Our kitchen table, my trusty workbench: I have spent more hours doing crafty things on it than eating, I am sure!

Believe it or not, we have other pieces of furniture that have done even longer service than the table, the most noteworthy being this chest of drawers currently squeezed into a temporary space in the kitchen.

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We bought this almost 30 years ago from a secondhand shop (junk, not antiques!) when we were setting up home and desperately needed something for storage. Junk it was, too; a rather nasty thing, covered in badly chipped  brown varnish and sporting ugly handles. The beauty of it to my eye was those lovely deep drawers, just right for bedding and towels. Looking at the worn parts now, I can see I must have painted it yellow at some point; I certainly don’t remember that but then it was a long time ago! At a slightly later date, I set to and gave it a new look with spare bits of cream and blue paint, then had a very happy time with stencils. Along with a few other temporarily placed bits and pieces, this chest will move out of the kitchen to a new spot once the renovation is complete. With that paint so chipped, flaking and grubby beyond cleaning, it really is time for another facelift and there’s a job I shall relish! The true irony – and the reason I’m sharing this tale – is that of all the pieces of furniture we’ve ever had, this one has drawn more compliments and happy comments than anything else. In fact, only recently a Spanish friend visited and made a beeline straight to it – she loves restoring furniture and this sort of thing is right up her street. It just goes to show that you don’t need to spend a fortune or be constantly changing and replacing the things around you in order to be comfortable or happy. Cherish the old and worn: they hold the story of your life and that’s a thing far more precious than fashion.

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The only thing regularly changed in our home are fresh flowers from the garden. The vase was a wedding gift, so we’ve had that for 32 years – blimey!