Le Grand Balcon – Setting up outdoor space for the summer

It all started with a catalogue.  You know, one of those supermarket add-magazines soliciting variety packs of Walkers and the best deals on Birds Eye frozen macaroni bites.  We get a fair bit of those here in France, in fact they drop semiregularly into our mailbox, once or twice a week, from all of the major supermarkets in the area.  First I thought about putting a stop to it by attaching a small “pas de pub” note on the door like before, but as a homeowner, I thought why not give the catalogues a try.

Who knows, they may even have coupons, I remember thinking.
 
Little did I know that a mag from Casino was going to change the way we would use our balcony, a leaky, smelly and callous place, which at that juncture mostly served as a place to dump smelly bin bags.  Like a good little wife I browsed through each leaflet full of special offers and multi-buys, occasionally setting a few aside featuring decent beer offerings or a tasty coupon.  From this pile of domestic misery, James spotted a set of patio furniture, a modular sofa, armchair and a tea-table-combo, for a price too good to miss.  As the weather was warming up, we wanted somewhere nice to sit outside with our G&T’s and made a trip to the Géant Casino in Castres the very next weekend.

The near impossible-to-assemble patio set with our riggity old table and chairs.

As you would expect, the furniture was a real bitch to put together.  Made of composite plastic in charcoal-black and casted to look woven in, these sets are fairly commonplace.  We were attracted to this particular combination, not just for its price, but because of the modular nature of it.  The furniture is lightweight and can be made to suit various situations: it’s not ridiculously opulent for the two of us and in the fair occasions we have company, you can seat up to five people comfortably.  The detail I was not expecting to be pleased about were the cushions, which turned out to be nice and fluffy, machine washable and moisture repellent.

 
While James was putting the pieces together in a drunken rage, I contributed by removing the cushions from their protective film and complained about certain men’s inability to read instructions.  Happy times.
 
Having sorted out the seating as well as a pesky hole in the fugly-but-functional fiberglass roofing, our little terrace was coming together nicely.  We chose to prioritise other projects for the summer to come, therefore it made sense to repair rather than remove the corrugated fiberglass sheets keeping the balcony dry from the rain.  You see, the water had previously found its way through the concrete base of the terrace, all the way to downstairs and the only way to start managing this was to make sure the floor was staying dry.  Installed sometime over ten years ago, the fiberglass sheets were in a proper state, but seemed to be holding on fine enough.  After James replaced a missing sheet and bolted it in place, this issue was solved. 
 
 
This corrigated fiberglass had weathered so badly that on the first glimpse James and I both thought it was asbestos.
With relatively little direct sunlight filtering thought the dirty fiberglass into this north facing sitting area, we get to enjoy our stunning view without being burned to crisp – something I truly appreciate as a perma-pale Finn.  Sure, the roofing will go as early as we have the time and the money to replace it properly, but in the meantime, the situation could be a lot grimmer.
Our current collection of herbs and flowers.

The concrete base will also get dug up and replaced.  For the time being we are thinking about terracotta tiles, perhaps re-using some already in this house, but in the interim the cracked concrete was covered up with a “rug” of synthetic grass.  We used to have this stuff covering a few problem areas in our old gallery-rental and we both liked the playful nature of the material.  Our garden, still a bit of a project, as is everything else in this house, does not have any grass and likely never will, so putting down a piece of artificial lawn felt like a fun thing to do.

 
Rest of the apparent décor, the little table and chairs, the herbs and the accessories migrated into this place almost on their own.  A north facing balcony is not the best place to grow herbs, I know, but so far so good.  They add a certain je ne sais quoi to the place and grow close to the kitchen where they are needed.  My favourite of all things in the balcony is probably the large ceramic statue of a stork, given to us as a wedding present by a friend and made by her elderly mother who was quite of an artist back in her day.  The garland of LEF-bulbs is also wedding related: it was bought from a Scandinavian household-all-rounder Class Uhlson to light up the stage in our wedding venue.



 



Setting all things and furnishings aside, I am in love with that view.  How could you not!  In a clear day you can see the rooftops of Mazamet, over the valley and all the way to the forests of Sidobre.  You can sit comfortably under a blanket and spy how the weather here changes in seconds and when the night comes, you may sit back and admire the stars.  It never stops to amaze me how one view alone can be so engaging.  Hopefully we will manage to extend this panorama even further by opening up the left side of the patio by reducing the height of the concrete wall that luckily is not part of the supporting structure for the roof. 

 
 
A room with a view…
Having a balcony that functions as it should has improved our social life too as here in France, it seems, everybody smokes.  Now, even when it rains, our friends can enjoy their fag-brakes without having to trek downstairs to the garden.  And of course, eating out in our place really means eating out now.  Even with the occasional bats, wasps and ants, it’s a great place so sit down and relax with a hearty G&T.
 
There is a one last person in the family that is yet to embrace the transformation of our terrace: Rusty the pupper.  He seems to find the confined outdoors a bit of a drag and much prefers the comfort of his own bed.  Well, you can’t please everyone they say… but at least the humans of our unit love the transformation. 

  

Easy DIY Bunting Tutorial

Life at N°21 is not just blocking holes in the ceilings and endless scrubbing you know – I spend an awful lot of time just pissing about, too.  Between work, reno-work and my vibrant social life (hah – as if) I like to craft.  Twee, I know, but very relaxing.  Last week we had the pleasure to host a friend’s birthday party and what a wonderful excuse that was to make a ton of bunting.  I don’t want this blog to be just about dirty old floors and a bunch of dead folk that built my house so let’s forget about the history of Chez Nous for a minute and relax:  

Ready, steady… CRAFT!   
You there, yeah, you – why not engage in some serious buntin’ today with these easy-piecy instructions?  You could very well harness your kids on it, as long as they are old enough to hold a pair of scissors safely, or embrace your inner homemaker-goddess/god and fix yourself a smashing garland.  Because life doesn’t need to be so damn serious all the time.
All you need is:
 

…plenty of pretty paper – this could be scrapbooking paper, wallpaper, etc… whatever you fancy as long as it is big enough for your bunting.  I used several 30x30cm sheets of square scrapping paper that was patterned on both sides, but standard A4 sheet would work too.

 

 …paper cutter or scissors.

 

 …twine or string.

 

 …a hole punch.

 

First choose your paper.  I went with double sided square sheets of card with a nice floral- and purple background, 30x30cm in size.  Fold and cut the paper in half.  You should be left with two rectangles half as wide as they are tall, 15x30cm in my case.  One rectangle like this will make one “triangle” of finished bunting. 
Don’t worry if your chosen paper is not square – just create rectangles that are half as wide as they are tall and you are good to go:  i.e. 10x20cm, 20x40cm and so on, depending how big you want your “triangles” to be.  
 
Next, fold your rectangles in half, into little tents and make a small mark on the bottom centre.  Cut them into triangles by starting from the top corners and aiming to the middle bottom mark.  Cut both sides.  Use a hole-punch to make a set of holes on the top of your triangles, going through both sides of your tent-triangles.
 
Almost done now…
 
The last step is to thread your bunting.  I used rustic packaging string made from raw linen, but yarn or any old string or thin ribbon would do.  You can make the bunting as long as you want, with as many triangles as you want.
 
Have fun trying out different papers and threads and enjoy the buntin’! 
 
This was really a “Happy Birthday”-bunting with the message spelled out using scrap pieces of the same patterned paper, but after the celebrations I simply reversed the garland and kept it on the wall with the blank side forward.  Re-think, re-use and re-cycle guys!

 

So here it is – simple bunting tutorial for craft-virgins.  Some people draw mandalas, bake or go jogging, but this is what I do to take my mind off work.  Plus I like this old house to look pretty.  Escapism perhaps, but who is going to pay attention to holes on the walls when there’s a bit of bunting up?
I will be back with more regular updates on our little renovation project Chez Nous in a bit, after spending time with my hubby and our wee dog, as life, especially in the South of France, should never be too serious.  In the meantime, what would you like to hear more about?  Is it the renovation and history of this old house you fancy or tales on the life in France in general?  Did my bunting really get you going?  Let me know in the comments or drop me a message and we’ll see what I can do. 
I love writing this blog but lately I’ve felt it’s been a bit of a burden.  To be honest, keeping it fun for me, as well as you dear reader, has been a struggle.  If staying interested in this project means less updates in favour of better content, so be it.   
 
With these words I bid you happy crafting.  Don’t let the stress-bugs bite.   
 

Making of.. L’Atelier d’Art Part 1 – The Floor

With all this pesky home improvement I have seriously neglected my awesome day job: being an artist.  I don’t normally take time off my work like this, but we needed to get this old house liveable, move our gallery into new premises Chez Nous, and get married in Finland.  The house is in order now, somewhat, and we are hitched, so it was about time to get the studio sorted out.
Luckily, as most of you know by now, N°21 used to be a crèmerie and has a neat little boutique downstairs, just itching to be turned into an atelier d’art.  We loved our old rental atelier artichoc which had enough space for a big studio space and a huge gallery but those premises had serious downfalls: even after we got proper lighting installed, there were never enough wall sockets, no heating nor hot water.  All rather essential for an all-year-round event- and work space.  Even with a great landlord and good visibility, we felt like it was time to move on.
Before setting up shop Chez Nous, there was this teeny-tiny little detail to fix: a floor full of gorgeous turn of the century cement tiles dirtier than a loo at a lorry stop.  Dominantly white cement tiles.  Oh boy.  After the closure of the crèmerie, sometime in the late 50’s to early 60’s, the shop front was used as a garage.  Neglected and barely sealed, the porous tiles absorbed all the grease, grime and dirt for decades and were in a pretty grim condition when we got here.  
We came to view this house on a warm autumn day and the light filtering though the frosted glass was just amazing.  Even under a layer of dirt and grime, these century old encaustic tiles steal the show. 
Normally, antique cement tiles would not be my material of choice for an artist studio for an array of reasons: they stain easily, are incredibly expensive to replace if damaged and difficult to keep clean if not sealed properly.  But frankly, they were here before me, and if restoring and keeping these tiles would mean needing to take better care while working… so be it.  Paint spills and drips are a daily occurrence in a working studio, but with a proper sealant and a never ending supply of wet-wipes, I should be able to manage any destructive bursts of creativity. 
Having had next to no bother cleaning and sealing the other encaustic tiles in this house, I thought sorting this room would be a piece of cake.
Remind me never to be so naïve again.
These types of cement tiles do not really loose colour due to wear and tear as the pigment sits in the cement itself, but they do, however, loose their protective finish.  After the sealant is lost, the porous cement is receptive to dirt that can be incredibly difficult to lift by using your regular household products.  Take my word for it, Mr. Propre was a complete waste of time.  In fact, any off-the-shelf cleaning product, no matter how specialised, had little to no effect on the greasy marks embedded deep in the pores of these concrete tiles.
Heck, even the old de-greasing agent made no visible progress, although it clearly got rid of something as all I was left after a good couple hours of serious scrubbin’ was a pair of matching blisters on both palms and water as dirty as a sailors smile.  The clearest results were visible on the border tiles that still had their original sealant.  The centre tiles with a nice burgundy and grey pattern on cream white background remained stained and dull. 
The tiles after a somewhat unsuccessful attempt in de-greasing them: the border tiles on the left cleaned out a bit whereas the tiles on the right did not react much at all to the scrubbing nor the de-greasing cleaner. 
 This is where a lesser (to be read: smart) home improver would call the professionals, but not me.  No.  I did, however, bully James to call a few friends for advice and soon had another product to try: a professional grade cleaner for cement tiles and marble.  This stuff was PH neutral, smelled like lemons and came in a reassuringly boring plastic jug.  By design, you were to brush the product on with water, creating a soapy foam that would sit on the tiles without drying for 10-20 minutes.  In that time the foam would penetrate the pores of the tiles and lift up any dirt and grease before being brushed up and rinsed with plenty of water.
 
In reality this meant half an hour of intense brushing, letting the stuff sink in from anything between 30 to 60 minutes, followed by more rage-brushing, tears, and some more brushing and rinsing.  I repeated the treatment twice and hated every single second of it.  Although I could see the foam turn into a satisfying shade of Yuk! on each rinse, the achieved difference was near invisible to the naked eye after each wash.  Needless to say, I may have been a bit underwhelmed.
I did spy some results once the floor had dried.  The weather, although nice and mild for most parts of the year was not quite so warm and dry as it is now, thus prolonging the time it took for everything to stabilise.  It seemed I had managed to remove some of the worst stains as well as parts of the old sealant that had yellowed over time.  And this is where I decided to call it.  More brushing was only going to start damaging these tiles and the dirty ones were clearly beyond rescuing, so I went to my local hardware store and bought myself a big bad roll of wood-effect vinyl.
Kidding.  God… just kidding!  
 

 

I decided to live with it.  These tiles have been in place since 1910 and I don’t really need them to look now.  A few are cracked slightly and others still bare the marks of the space being used as a garage… but that is fine.  I never wanted this floor to look new, just less grotty and this is exactly what I think I have achieved here.  After three coats of fresh sealant, my studio tiles certainly have got their mojo back, and in a way, so have I.  After all, what is a cowboy without their horse, an artist without a studio?
 
These tiles are not new but they got a century’s worth of character to compensate.
 
TO BE CONTINUED… Next time on the same atelier time, on the same atelier channel, I’ll be ranting on about painting ceilings as a shorty, French neighbours and dog hair.  

Raiders of the Lost Tiles

As some of you might know, I had a summary of my modular kitchen-post published by ApartmentTherapy and as a direct result, the traffic on Chez Nous N° 21 has increased a fair bit.  It has been amazing to read AT community’s comments on our temporary kitchen solution, but it was our century old cement tiles, a detail that really sold us on this old house, that stole the show on the discussion-forum.  Having engaged in a conversation with one tile-connoisseur in particular, I was tipped of about the endless possibilities of Le Bon Coin, a local flea market site, with links to a couple of offers for antique cement tiles.  One of these happened to be advertising a lump of reclaimed tiles, not similar but identical to ours, and mere three hours away from Mazamet. 
 
Long story short, we went and got them.  We had to.
 
I was going to write about pictures and framing this week, but as this kind stranger pointed us to the direction of the best possible tiles for our future kitchen, you are getting Raiders of the Lost Tiles instead – a story about road tripping to an old Roman settlement and the perilous journey back with a boot full of cement tiles.
 
This was supposed to be a weekend of 6 Nations rugby and some serious gardening, but my husband wasted no time contacting the seller and organising a rendez-vous.  Until now every material we considered for the floor of our future kitchen had felt like a compromise.  This was really a once in a life time opportunity to replace the current 80’s porcelain tiles with something more courteous to the age and style of this house.  As we were already travelling over 200 kilometres to see these tiles, we decided to make a night of it and stay in a nearby city of Arles, an ancient Roman settlement on the river Rhône.  James hunted down a nice pet-friendly hotel close to the centre so we were able to take our dog Rusty with us too.   
 
 
Shut-Up Rusty, or just Rusty for short, is our third family member, adopted in January.  To fill you in, he is an Alsatian-cross who likes long walks on the beach, ham and plenty of belly rubs.  This was quite likely his first ever stay in a hotel and oh boy he was ever so well behaved.  Lucky us, he also loves riding in the car.  And speaking of cars… here’s a word of caution for any of those looking to pick up over 15m² of cement tiles.  They are heavy as hell; heavy enough to seriously damage your vehicles suspension or the axel if not balanced properly.  You’d be a proper bell-end not to hire a van. 
 
Naturally, we headed on our way in our humble Laguna estate.
 
The seller of these tiles was asking a “fair offer” for his reclaimed tiles and he accepted ours after a little haggle.  Each deal made on Le Bon Coin is different, but so far we had nothing but great luck with the things we bought and the people we have dealt with.  I kid you not, we found our house on Le Bon Coin!  The guy who showed us the tiles on behalf of his wife was very professional and really helpful to the point of coming to meet us in a traffic stop after their address turned out not to be on the navigator.  He even helped us loading up the Laguna.  Without trying to be disrespectful, (our offer was pretty damn close to what they were thinking about anyway)  I have seen these types of tiles go for nearly ten times that on dedicated salvage websites.  Driving three hours to view something you saw online may seem excessive, but for a deal like this, we would have done twice miles. 
 
 
And besides, Arles turned out to be beautiful!  We had the weather on our side, a high of 25 that day and not a single cloud on the sky.  Having packed up our new purchase we checked in to the Hôtel Le Rodin, a tidy little place that was more than happy to accept dogs as big as our Rusty.  The service was wonderful and the hotel was situated within walking distance of the city centre – our next stop as by the time we had fed our pupper it was pretty much beer a clock.  So we had a pit stop of dark craft beer and local cheese + a small plate of charcuterie, seated at the terrace of Picador, a bar with their own deli, near the old amphitheatre.
 
 
After checking out few of the main attractions, being hurried along by Rusty who was frantically looking for a grassy spot to do his business, we found a little restaurant called l’Autruche – the ostrich, which had just re-opened.  They, like most businesses in France to be honest, were happy to have a dog lounging in our feet as we tucked into their daily-changing set menu of locally sourced produce.  James and I both chose fresh asparagus, served with a soft boiled egg, a small salad and pureed greens.  A superb starter to go with our chosen bottle of organic wine, which James followed up with a combo of a lamb chop & tatties, and I with flaky white fish, steamed and seasoned, on a bed of green lentils.  Not normally a huge fan of the bio wines, I enjoyed this red – it was a lot lighter than expected, almost like the new season’s stuff, apparently due to the lack of sulphites that help to preserve the flavour in wine produced using the traditional methods.  The tipple came warmly recommended by the owner, who was really damn nice.  For a Friday night, it was pretty quiet everywhere.  We felt a bit like crashing a private party – everyone here was clearly pretty well acquainted…
 
 
 But hey-ho.  We did stay for a second plate of cheese that day to end the evening. 
 
In the morning we were faced with a task of redistributing yesterday’s loot in a manner that our Laguna wouldn’t brake in half during the hard drive home.  That meant fitting as many tiles as it was safely possible into the front passenger seat, thus seating myself in the back with Rusty.  DO NOT TRY THIS AT HOME, folks.  Just because we and our vehicle survived, it doesn’t mean it was a good idea.  As the bottom of our estate was nearly scraping ground all the way to Mazamet, we chose to favour the motorway.  Pity, as otherwise we would have taken a detour to see where the couple that built our house came from.
 
Based on the details they left behind, we have a reason to believe the original owners had a connection to a village called Blauvac an hour and half away from Arles.  Down to the design and colour, the tiles of our kitchen and the ones we just purchased are identical indicating they came from the same factory.  These types of encaustic cement tiles are still being manufactured by hand, using the traditional colours and patterns, most prominently in Marocco.  Our motif is pretty rare and typical to these parts of the South of France, so it is reasonable to assume there might have been a factory manufacturing them in the region. 
 
 
 
I couldn’t resist digging around online and it seems, indeed, that the biggest cement works producing encaustic cement tiles, Cimenterie Lafarge, was based in the village of Viviers in the department of Ardèche since 1850.  Their tiles were initially reserved for the bourgeoisie but soon became popular everywhere.  Sadly the production was ceased in France by the 1970’s; colourful cement tiles featuring intricate geometric- or stylised floral motifs, had fallen out of vogue in favour of ceramic tiles which were a lot cheaper to manufacture.  In 1910, however, when our house was built, encaustic designs were still all the rage.  It may be relevant to mention that Viviers, the centre of cement works in the South of France, is situated an hour and a bit from Blauvac as well as hour and a half away from Arles. 
 
I present my case: our tiles are made in France, not so far from where the builders of my house might have come from. 
 
They rest safely in out cellar now, waiting to be cleaned and re-sealed before being installed into the room downstairs that is to be our new kitchen.  It will not be any time soon – perhaps the summer next year, but I am glad we did not let this opportunity to slip through our fingers.
 
Random stranger from the Apartment Therapy forum – thank you a million times for finding out about this seller and his wonderful tiles!  We couldn’t have done it without you.  And an honourable mention for our Renault Laguna, you are the best. 

Little Bathroom of Horrors

Little bog,
Little bog o’horrors.
Little bog,
Little bog o’terror.
Call a cop.
Little bog o’horrors.
No, oh, oh, no-oh!

Yeah.  This is where we were just a few short months ago – stuck with a gross loo and a bath that could make a grown man gag.  Luckily, after a deep clean, what had felt like a sick joke was revealed to be a pretty decent little bathroom with relatively new fixtures.  We then set out to make it, not just liveable but pretty, on a minimal budget and armed only with my painting expertise and James’ endless trust in the power of DIY. 

This photo was taken on the day we first viewed this old house.  Something needed to be done.  Fast.

 

From the long list of complaints, the mouldy wallpaper was first to go.  I can only ask what sort of a sick bastard would choose floor-to-ceiling wallpaper for a wet space in the beginning with – Jesus H Roosevelt Christ, it was even IN THE SHOWER!  The only thing keeping the plaster work dry was a layer of ancient gloss paint, in better-than-expected condition, but stained with god-only-knows-what.  We were lucky to find out the tiles, on the walls and the floor, were mostly intact and usable as was the bath, although all of the grout lines had been painted with the strangest shade of acid green.

I know.  And don’t even get me started on the Asterix-stickers…  for shits shake.

This is the only useable bathroom in the house so our only option was to focus on small changes to make this space more practical.  We patched all the holes, gave the walls a new lick of paint and replaced a few small details such as the mirror, the shower head and the toilet seat.  The layout could be more functional for a narrow space and eventually I want to do something to cover up the very invasive waste pipe coming down from the upstairs loo, but for the time being I am pretty happy with what we got here.
As if the frosty minty wallpaper was not ugly enough, all metalwork in this bathroom was painted in the strangest shade of acid green.  On the right you see a comparison of the wallpaper and what we found underneath; banged up and stained sage green gloss paint.
Our aim was to create a fresh, modern space that would reflect the character of this old house as well as our taste, so we chose a moody shade of sage green, a bit darker from the original colour of the room, and paired it with a dominant, crisp white with hints of blush pink.  Sage is something we have going on a lot in this house and it felt like a good contrast for white that was used to bring light to this small and enclosed space.  Together with the grey of the exposed plumbing and the deep blue of the floor mosaic, I had a complete colour palette to work with.  James took a bit of convincing on the blush, but I think the finished article works rather well.
Choosing a über-trendy colour such as blush pink can be a bit risky, but if you truly love a shade, trendy or not, why hesitate?  Life is too short to fret about decor anyway.  On the flip side, it might be a good idea, before putting your money down, to think how easy a trendy detail is to change if and when the fab turns naff and how much it would cost you to do so.  As we were not ordering a custom kitchen or spending hundreds on paint, I felt comfortable experimenting a bit.  If we ever get bored with our little bathroom, repainting it would not bust our balls or our budget.

 

  This was my check list for the project:
– re-attach a few cracked tiles below the bathroom mirror
– patch holes in the plaster and a few on the floor 
– Replace the mirror – it was damaged as well as ugly
– fix or replace a broken shower head
– attach a rail for a shower curtain
– patch holes on the door and adjust the fit (the door did not close properly)
– Sort out all grout lines that have been painted over with that gross green gloss
– replace the toilet seat with something more comfortable
– create storage for toiletries, towels etc. 
– paint the walls, plumbing, tub surround and all trims
– Patch up the paint in the ceiling above the bath/shower
– attach a new towel rail closer to the bath/shower
– remove old towel hooks that were too far from the bath/shower
– decorate like a boss  

We did not have a set budget, but incredibly I ended up spending less than 300 euros on this update, bulk of if being the cost of paint.  As there was no plumbing or electrical work for the time being, I was able to do all of it myself, thus avoiding to pay for labour entirely.  Because we had to complete the painting while using the bathroom and wait to get the paint delivered, the whole process took a couple of months.  It could have been a week’s project for somebody with the materials at hand and another shower to use but taking it easy gave us time to think what we really wanted from this mini-renovation; what was necessary and what was not.

The paint I used had to be oil based in able to adhere to the old gloss base, so I picked self-undercoating Dulux Trade Eggshell in Brilliant White for the long walls, and Dulux Valentine Laque in Sage 4 and Framboise 2 for the accents.  We were in luck to have a friend pick us up some British paint as it can be silly expensive here in France.  Some say it’s not the same stuff either – and they are right; most Dulux paints sold in France are adjusted to the French taste in both colour and composition.  They are also largely made in France, therefore different from the ones sold in your average building supply store in the UK.  Not available beyond the French-speaking market, the Valentine gloss with a satin finish was pleasant to use and dried pretty quickly.

 
So the painting begins…
I did not need to use a primer when painting the sage accent walls as the transition between the old and new shades was minimal, but I did use a cheap white gloss I had left over from a previous project to go under the blush pink to stop the 90’s acid green from showing through.  Applying a proper primer takes time, but I would always recommend using one when you are painting a new wall or transitioning between two very different shades, especially when going from dark to light.  Primer helps the paint to adhere to the surface you are transforming and stops stains or the previous colour from showing through over time.  Also, a layer of primer will save you time and money on the top coats by stopping the wall from absorbing the paint too quickly – you get better and more even results while using less paint.
Another thing to keep in mind when using any oil/solvent based products is good ventilation – this stuff can get your head spinning.  It is best to wear a mask when painting and take care handling any thinners or the paint itself as they are toxic enough to harm your skin.  Not to mention flammable.  You must clean your tools with white spirit or turpentine and dispose all left over liquids and paint by taking them to a collection point.  Public déchèteries accept paint scraps in France, but check the advice of your local council if unsure what to do where you are based.
 
As a general rule, you can use gloss over emulsion but never the other way around.  The emulsion or any standard water based product* will not adhere to a base painted in non-water-soluble paint – it will just crack and flake off.  Most household paints today are water-based and whole walls painted in gloss, such as those in our bathroom, are highly unusual.  Historic homes have their quirks, but as an average decorator, you are more likely to stumble on an oil based product on trims, window sills and baseboards.  Replacing gloss with gloss is easy, but by stripping the surface bare, followed by a primer, you can use any type of paint.  Modern emulsion paints are hard wearing and come in all sorts of finishes so you can achieve the look of old-style gloss without using a messy oil based product.  
 
* There are a lot of contemporary innovations that allow all sorts of witchcraft, but I am not an expert on those. 
The Dulux Trade Eggshell, like most professional products, is limited in shades, but it is excellent value for the performance you get.  I enjoyed using it and being a qualified painter of one sort, did not find it difficult to manage cleaning wise.  The scent of the product is stronger than of those aimed for regular DIY use and you need to clean all the equipment used with white spirit or another suitable brush cleaner.  You can buy the stuff without a trade license, but I wouldn’t recommend it for beginners as there are plenty of products that get you the same results but are a lot more user friendly.
The clean and neat AFTER shots.  I am very pleased how it all turned out.
The manufacturer recommends two coats and I found this to be sufficient – even on a larger than normal surface such as my bathroom walls, where you really do not want brush marks or other imperfections.  I used a wide synthetic brush to save paint and enable me to reach behind awkward pipework, the radiator etc. and a smaller one for the wooden trims.  You could use a roller just as well, but for the most even results, choose one that is designed for oil based paints and prepare for a cleaning session from hell.
Thankfully, my James with his formidable 6’6 frame took over the roller in order to paint the ceiling.  This was a simple emulsion job and we chose to use Dulux Bathroom + that repels mould and is guaranteed to last a minimum of five years.
This unit used to be in our kitchen, now it hold all of our toiletries and a formidable stack of towels.  Not a shabby space for a spa day.
Having finished painting the room we needed to decide on storage.  Not being a fan of open shelving in a wet space myself, we decided on a vintage unit bought originally for our kitchen in Bretagne.  The chest is just about narrow enough for this bathroom and has plenty of draws and shelves for our toiletries and towels.  The existing marble shelf above the sink was cleaned and kept for our toothbrushes and it looks pretty nice with the new mirror thrifted from a local depot vente.  The dark wood of the storage unit, a fancy new toilet seat (mahogany, baby!) and the mirror frame really tie the different elements in this bathroom together.
The mirror is not currently fixed on the wall, but rests on a shallow marble self above the sink.
The towel hooks that were inconveniently far away from the bath were taken down and replaced with chrome-finished towel rings.  Our old textiles such as the bathmat and the shower curtain were still in a perfect working order so we did not feel the need to replace any of them.  The accessories, too, were from our old hoard of stuff, merely repurposed to suit this bog.
 
Finlayson towels – this pattern is called Elefantti and it was designed in 1969 by Laila Koskela.
I think it is justified to claim this Little Bathroom of Horrors has been completely rehabilitated.  As it stands, it is a clean, welcoming and sweet-smelling space – no mouldy wallpaper in sight.  No longer do I have to recite Hail Mary’s whilst seated on my porcelain.. ahem.. mahogany throne nor feel dirty after taking a shower!  And I cannot underestimate the importance of this update – after a functioning kitchen, bathroom is the most important room in the house for me; it is an oasis to escape to after a hard day of living on a building site.
Or removing Asterix-stickers from other surfaces around the house.  Bastards.
But going back to the bathrooms… my bubble bath is waiting! *Crabs the ice cold flute of Blanquet and turns up Steve Wright.

The Great Curtain Cover-Up

In these few short months I have had the privilege to live in this charming old house, I learned a few practical lessons in restoration work, but most valuably, gained some patience to help me cope with the fact that we cannot start putting everything right all at once
 
As our beloved N°21 had been empty for over a decade, the first steps in restoring this house to its former glory were intended simply to make it habitable again.  Coming to the end of February, we have succeeded in crafting ourselves an adorably bohemian bedroom where there used to be nothing but dirt and dead bats, a dinky but functional modular kitchen and a two unfinished but comfortable rooms of living and dining space.  Not to mention the little loo of horrors we turned into the clean and functional bathroom it is now.
 
But after all of the absolutely necessary work is done – where do you go next? 
 
There is some structural work to be done in the next few years including patching up parts of the roof and insulating the entire attic floor as well as re-framing spaces to accommodate a few toilets and a large kitchen-diner.  All the plasterwork can be assessed and fixed once the frame of the building dries, most likely during next summer and the shutters, window sills and doors need to be painted before next year’s winter storms.
 
 
 
This is not a weekend project – we would love to be able to finish bulk of it in five years, but you never know.  Old houses are like hen-dos in Vegas; if you don’t keep your cool they can drain all your money, soon followed by your will to live.  So as we are still getting used to living Chez Nous, we are taking it easy, for now, assessing our priorities and harbouring an uncomfortably close relationship with Pinterest.
 
Don’t get me wrong, understanding our priorities won’t make me hate the rough edges of our dwelling any less!  On the contrary.  But before the time comes to start hammering out the crap, I must be creative in hiding what I can’t change in the interim.  From the long list of complaints, the time has come for the raw concrete scarring in our current dining room.  I can’t start plastering it out yet, nor is it sensible as we have plans to extend the existing French doors with a panoramic window.  The next best thing, naturally, is to hide the problem and pretend it does not exist – and this is exactly what I set out to do when I started sewing curtains for an imaginary window.
 
Our dining room before we moved in and after some light touch-ups, including partial wallpaper removal.  The bare patch of concrete sticks out like a sore thumb. 
Luckily I had plenty of fabric to cover up the whole mess.  While looking for décor for our wedding in Finland last December, we raided a Finlayson Outlet Store in my old home town in Forssa and picked up over 10 meters of their Kihla-fabric from a bargain bin of off-cuts.  Designed by Sami Vulli, the pattern is inspired by Finlayson’s graphic motifs from the 60’s and 70’s, and features stylised wedding rings*.  Although we needed to cut some of the cotton we bought in order to have enough table runners for the wedding, I managed to sew two sets of narrow panel curtains, one wider curtain and a new doggy bed cover for our Rusty with a good couple of meters still remaining.
 
*Although we did not know it at the time. I literally just googled the name of the pattern for this blog.
The happy nuptials: These snaps are from our very hand crafted wedding. We needed to cut some of the fabric for the table runners, but no-sewing was required, merely a creative hand wielding an iron.   
I have always been a fan of Finlayson.  To be honest it could not be avoided growing up in a city like Forssa where a large selection of their fabrics used to be made.  Comparing Finlayson textiles to other better known Finnish producers such as Marimekko, theirs were always the working horse of fabrics and soft furnishings, durable and affordable, but no less iconic from their rivals.  In the recent years they have re-introduced a load of their old classics, from retro patterns to the Moomins, and launched new lines that turned out to be amazingly popular such as the Tom of Finland collection.  As Finlayson Co is getting increasingly known overseas, especially in East-Asia, the prices have increased too.  We were able to rummage through their bargains and buy our Kihla-fabric for 15€ a kilo, but I would have happily dished out the full price (approx. 20-25€ per metre) for this lovely piece of thick cotton – in my experience it is hard wearing and washes well without losing colour.
 
But going back to the task at hand:  sewing curtains can be just as easy or as hard as you want and I made mine super simple.
 
I will be adding a white liner when these are hanging on an actual window, but for the minute I left the back side blank to enable me to adjust the length easily if needed.  Having zig-zagged all the rough edges to avoid fraying I pressed my seams before sewing them to make everything run as smoothly as possible.  Not really being a sewing-wizard myself, these curtains turned out surprisingly nicely.  
 
The most difficult part was to get the pattern match between both double panels, especially when most of these bits I used for the curtains had been half-arsedly ripped to size for the wedding.  The whole project took me around a day from ironing the properly ruffled up fabric to finishing the hems.  One of the panels is a tiny bit shorten than its peers and another still bears a faint ghost of red wine spilled at the merriment of our marriage ceremony, but hey, they’ll do fine for the job. The two picked our for this project were roughly the cleanest and just wide enough to cover that fugly wall.  So bye bye nasty concrete – hello retro vibes!

After: finished curtains in situ

I had the whole 6’6 of James helping me with the rods, thankfully.  Getting them somewhat levelled on my own would have been a mission impossible, especially as the ceiling in this room sags just enough to make everything look crooked regardless.  In fact, we had to fix them in place twice, perfectly level at first and then crooked to match the profile of the ceiling – now the end result appears somewhat straight.   


Tackling this little eye sore really came to show that putting things out of sight does get them off your mind.  Or I am just pretty good avoiding life’s little pitfalls!  Either way, this dining room is slowly but surely starting to feel like home. 

 

Sorry what… A G&T? Don’t mind if I do!