A sack of wool has appeared beside my desk. It’s big. It’s heavy. And it smells, unsurprisingly, a bit sheepy. The delivery man gave me a withering look after he had heaved it up to the seventh floor, sweating, and rolled it off his trolley. I admit I’m not looking forward to lugging it home on the train tonight…but at least if all the seats are taken, I can sit on it. And, if I don’t manage to roll it up the steep hill I live on, I could always use it to create some sort of emergency overnight nest.
I foolishly didn’t realise that my birthday Moroccan pouffe was sold un-stuffed – we live and learn. But now all that stands between me and the Moroccan cosy corner of my dreams is a tonne of wool and an hour-long commute in high heeled boots…
I don’t think my other half truly appreciates or grasps fully what The Arrival of The Pouffe means. Now I can play with all my pretty trays and tealights creating styled displays on the top of The Pouffe. I can put my feet up on The Pouffe when I’m watching TV without kicking over the wine on the coffee table. I can produce The Pouffe for last-minute extra guest seating in a flash. I can pat The Pouffe, proudly. The cats can sit on The Pouffe. I can perch on The Pouffe. How did I ever survive without The Pouffe? It’s quite unimaginable. What a misery my pre-pouffe, pouffe-less existence must have been. Check out these lovely pouffes in the elegant white and silver Moroccan-magic home of Cecilia Granath in Copenhagen, (but it could be Marrakesh). This is how my dream Moroccan cosy corner looks (in my head):
When I travelled around Morocco a few years ago, I should have brought some un-stuffed leather pouffes back with me. Instead, I packed my suitcase full of twenty five large plastic bags of red, unidentifiable ‘spice’ which I accidentally bought in a souk due to peer pressure and which is so potent and strange-tasting, I did at one point wonder if it might be some sort of powdered paint. I used the boyfriend’s suitcase for a ridiculous, never-used, rarely-dusted, tagine. Sigh.
Thanks to Bethan for her pretty wedding-themed post on Friday. Lovely! Makes me want to be a wedding planner. I spent my birthday weekend dragging polite-but-bored people around my favourite antiques barn in the Cotswolds, where I found some excellent vintage buys. More about that tomorrow – I need to start the wool transfer now. No pain, no gain. – EllieRead more →