An Seomra Beag*

* The little room

I don't exaggerate. This is the smallest of the bedrooms in my house. I started out with 5. Yeah 5! But they are teensy tiny dooshy little rooms. This seomra is 6' x 6'. And an odd thing. It sits at the end of its own little hall separated by a door leading to another hall and the other bedrooms. A Coventry situation for any guest, bad or good.

I put a single bed in there, a tiny handpainted round table and a little chair. I hung a cute toiletry holder on the back of the door and put some gorgeous bedlinens and quilts on the bed. In bright yellow. And hung flouncy sheers on the windows.

And no one has ever opted to sleep there. Or if they did, they crawled back into the exclusive owner apartments beyond The Door within a few hours. Some insist it is haunted. I've never slept there, even to test drive the mattress.

So I was left with this brand new bed. And an unused room.

Oh and this room. Ocean view. Grey ceilings, grey walls and grey floor. Imagine the thought that went into that. The previous owner must have been in a depressive state, d'ya think?

Leo wanted the brand new bed. Coveted it. His own is falling apart, he says. He takes it apart today and carts it outside and comes back in. It's no good to him: no headboard, you see. I try and convince him to use another headboard. Can't. Once Leo has his mind made up you can engage in a lifetime argument or just shrug, or just agree. I've learned to agree, it takes the least amount of energy.

I'm thinking yellow for the whole of this room, including the floor, which will become my sewing/knitting room. A place, finally for the sewing machine, in front of the window, overlooking the bay. Floor to ceiling shelves for the supplies. A place for some treasured crafty books - like this: "How to Make Paris Frocks at Home" published in 1948.

It's about time I got at those frocks, right?