A room of one's own

Continuing with the narcissistic theme (and because I still can’t find my blinking aura file), I thought I’d show you a couple of pictures of the house.

    When Frog went self-employed eighteen years ago, his tools and equipment already filled a garage, a shed, the driveway, a bedroom and half the sitting-room. Now we had the contents of his workshop at the university to accommodate as well. I meanwhile was also self-employed and used one of the bedrooms in our two-and-a-half-bedroomed bungalow as my study. The dog’s bed took up most of our tiny galley kitchen. Things were becoming a tad cramped.

    We didn’t want to move as we had good neighbours and were well dug into the village so instead we turned to our friend Miles, a designer and builder (www.housedesigndevon.co.uk ).

    ‘I’d like a tower to work in and a big kitchen,’ I said.

    ‘I’d like a cave,’ said Frog, ‘to use as a music studio.’

    Well, thanks to Miles and his wild (sometimes too wild) imagination, that’s just about what we got.

    Our bungalow now has four levels.

    Frog has a semi-underground room with sound-proofing in the ceiling and non-right-angled corners (better for sound-recording). He keeps the blinds closed and the window shut. Here it is.

    And I have a room carved out of the loft:

Here is my sewing corner in the room, and the glass walls looking into the conservatory that connects the old and the new parts of the house:

and here are my lovely Velux windows:

Because I'm not very clever with photographs, I've managed to make the room look dark, but that's just what it isn't.
    (And, as you can see, I'm not so minimalist after all, in a space that's all mine. . .)