We've finally landed in London and are fortunate to now be house sitting a dead posh house belonging to some dear friends. Result!
Everything about this place is the antithesis of our little home. It is uber-modern. There is not Scandinavian crockery item, vintage tablecloth or piece of salvaged mid century furniture to be found.
There's also a queer shortage of glassware and china generally. Four side plates for a family of four? How does that work? So today I ducked into the local charity shop and picked up these four Royal Albert side plates, two pounds the lot, which inject a satisfying kitsch design malfunction in this uber contemporary space.
And there are cats... which are growing on me. Dogs and cats, retro v. modern: who cares, we are lovin being here.
There's also nothing in this house that would suggest it is Christmas. No tree, door wreath, cards, nada. But I have been reading some gorgeous blogs posts and watching great telly full of inspired home made Yuletide craft and food. Which delivers the vicarious pleasure without all the effort, nice.
And it has just dawned on me that I am actually about to enjoy a Christmas absorbing the creativity and hard work of others (esp SIL) and all we have to do is rock up. This just might be the Right Christmas I've been dreaming of!