Slumber Party!

Not a bed but a sweet little place for the flowers on my porch in America to nestle in a child's wicker baby buggy. We used it on the porch in the summer and in the dining room in the winter filled with poinsettias.

Oh so much fun!
I have never been invited to an on-line slumber party before, and I am not even sure if my participation is going to work, or not, but here goes!

My little nest here in England is still evolving. There is still lots of work to do but we have made a huge dent in it thus far.
My room at my home in America was fitted with a genuine antique double bed, bought on ebay, and fetched from Ohio to New York state in the back of a Dodge Caravan.
I regularly used antique sheets on it - my favourite one being a set from Italy - in pure linen.
Here is a photograph of my room in Williamsville, New York:. . . and then this is one of the two matching four poster beds in the guest room.



We worked on the house here in England, all the time, my first year here, changing rooms, removing walls, installing doors, removing doors, sanding floors, rewiring and installing new fittings, and so much more!
Because my children were arriving in December for our first English Christmas, my husband and I needed to find beds fast!
So we found three single beds on ebay from two different sellers.
One antique iron bed was purchased in London from a gorgeous bedroom way up on about the fourth or fifth floor, in a home that was situated within sight of Harrods.
It had been imported from America (like me!) by its owners who were downsizing and wanting to sell it.The other beds were a set of matching single beds, purchased also in London, but from an entirely different set of circumstances. These beds were being sold by their owners who were newly emigrated from Italy. The beds had belonged to the grandmother of the wife, and had been hand-made in Italy long, long ago. This photograph is just one of the pair of them. It resides in our guest room, where I typically use it as a table for my cutting board for working on my projects! When my very talented friend comes to visit us from the US, I will put her to work painting floral wreaths in the top curvy bit of each bed.


All three beds were in need of some painting so my husband had them stripped and then repainted in powder coating.
The two Italian beds are in our guest room, and the American bed is in my daughter's room.

We wanted to buy our bed as an antique, too, but to get an antique one as a king size bed (equal to our queen size in US terminology) would have cost thousands, so we settled for a reproduction - well - for now anyway! This is our bed made up in a duvet from the Pottery Barn in the Iznik range. No curtains yet! LOL! We have them now - a lovely dotted Swiss white cotton.
My favourite pastime is designing and making over houses. And we have had so much fun doing this one. There is always something new to do and to chat about but today is all about beds!

Next time more on my obsession with vintage linens!
Oh, I could write a book . . .

The Comforts of Childhood

My mother moved quietly around the bed, carefully selecting bits of the blanket to gently push beneath me, tucking me in for the night.

A chill was in the air, and even though I could have bundled myself off to bed for the night, there was something so special in knowing that someone else was there caring for me, and making sure I was warm, and loved, as I drifted off to sleep for the night.
We took those days for granted, and our childhood is now but a blink in time and a soft, loving, memory we look back on.

When my own children were small, I used to fight the battle all parents fight; with children who want to grow up, all too fast.
They were teased when collecting trading cards that their peers thought they were too old to collect; and young girls exchanged doll dresses and imagination, for make-up and trendy fashions.

I would remind them that they would have only one shot at being a child and they would have their whole to be lived as adults and to do adult things. I begged them to do as they pleased, to play with their toys and dolls as long as they could, and to ignore taunts from others less informed on the ways of youth.

I suppose those sentiments offered little comfort in those pressure-filled days, of wanting to be included in the 'popular' crowd, with kids who were constantly trying to be someone they weren't.

I wanted my kids to be true to who they were and not try to be like everyone else.
And I wanted them to always remember they were loved and wanted for themselves, and not for what they might do or not do, when they grew up and went out into the world.

I wanted them to have the little comforts life offers - like being tucked in at night by a mother who wanted them to feel snug and secure and loved.

This morning, as I was making our bed, I thought about my husband who was off at work and how hard life can be when we get older. He ushers in his day at 4:30 am and sets off in the wee, dark hours of the morning while most of our neighbours are still asleep.
He works so hard every day.

Just last night, there was a chill in the air. And as he finished dressing himself for the day, he walked around the bed, carefully tucking me in, repeating, "Go back to sleep, love," several times.

A little bit of my childhood came drifting back to me . . . and I was wrapped in warm memories of days long ago and comforted in knowing that love still can happen at any age.