When the wind is swirling around outside, the house is rocking and the trees swaying violently, there’s only one place to be. That is safe and warm inside, with expansive views across the valley. It’s a nice place to be, if I do say so myself.
Whereas it is hard to change the external architecture of a house, it is easier to put your stamp on a house’s interior. When we moved in 22 years ago, the house spoke of the 1980s. We’ve changed quite a lot, and it is now very much our style. (Although 20 years later I’m ready for a change of carpet.) We’ve been together so long that our style seems to have merged … well, to a certain extent. I love colour, and this is the second red couch we have owned. I’d seen it, and coveted it, for a long time. Finally I showed it to my husband. He fell in love with it immediately. It is a statement though. What does it say? Maybe simply that we embrace things that are a little different. Maybe that I don’t want to be a retiring wallflower? I think perhaps that I will always have a red couch. I like the idea of being 70 with a bold red couch.
You can see pictures and photographs from home and from all over the world are on the wall, the piano and the cabinet; my lamp came from Thailand, and so did the Burmese-style table it sits on. The embroidered elephant from India is slightly obscured, as is the solitaire game from South Africa. My piano was my great-grandmother’s and doesn’t really go with our more contemporary decor, but it is important to me, and so has pride of place. Even if I don’t play it as often as I would like.