Guest Blog: Making a House a Home
It is with real excitement that we welcome the wonderful words of Kate Watson-Smyth from Mad About the House. Kate is an award-winning journalist whose blog is "for people who care where they live, how they live and what they live with" and today we go behind the scenes to discover how she makes her house a home...
Making a House a Home
I have lived in many houses in my life. Each time I move is always the last. Until the next time.
This frequent moving has come to mean there are certain rituals that must be adhered to on arrival because otherwise, I tell myself (or realistically my husband), I shan't be able to sleep as it won't feel like home.
First up, he must be able to find the toolbox and a hammer. I will undertake to have the picture hooks in my bag. This is because he has tried to wriggle out of hanging pictures on the day we move in on the basis that we have no picture hooks handy. I have learnt to pre-empt this excuse. He has learnt that there is no way round it.
I know, hanging pictures is the last thing that should be done. It's like putting your earrings on before you've chosen a dress. But I must have one or two pictures up on the wall on moving day even if I have to sit on a packing case to admire them.
Next up the corkscrew. Unless we're drinking champagne. In which case a couple of good glasses need to be unearthed.
Suitably refreshed, it's time to find that box. That box is the one that holds the clock, the ornaments for the mantelpiece, the most precious of our books. That box contains the soul of the house; an elephant made from masking tape by one of the children. A wooden box with a key that was a present from my father. A painting done by my husband's grandfather. These are the things that make any house my home.
Photography: Richard Powers
Without the treasures that we carry from house to house, it's just a building. When that box is unpacked and its contents arranged, a pile of bricks and mortar becomes a home that tells the story of the people who live there. Without that box it's just a sofa in a room.
Many years ago, I lived in Africa for a few months. I travelled with three girlfriends. We were backpacking and could take no more than we could carry. In among the clothes and the malaria tablets, the sturdy shoes and the string, I made room for that box. It was only a mini version to be sure, but it contained the five or six things I knew I would need to make anywhere my home for the night. A round silver box bought from a Paris flea market that sits on my mantelpiece today. In it, three coins from the I Ching book of Chinese Wisdom. A notebook and a pen, for I can never leave home without those. And when I have them I feel at home.
And then, and only then, when I am surrounded by the things that tell of my life, I can think of shopping for the items that will turn my home into a beautiful house. And that is when the fun really starts.
Photography: Richard Powers