Nobody ever tells you about the down side of new curtains. Having
spent the last couple of weeks admiring them, I've now realized that
they make the furniture (which is not new) look very shabby
indeed. Initially, we were so relieved that all the furniture
fitted in - now suddenly it all looks hideously congested. I can't
believe it took me so long to notice.
In the past, we've always lived in rackety old apartments, built in the
early 20th century, when rooms were big, and windows were small.
So big, brown old stuff looked great.
Alas, now that we are living in a house where the rooms are small, and
the windows are big, the furniture is looking a lot like me - sagging
around the edges, and in definite need of slimming down.
My harpsichord sits in the middle of the lounge room, a constant
reproach to me, as I haven't touched it in months. If it keeps
looking at me like that, I'm going to send it to the garage.
Pot-bellied stoves are very aptly named - they take up far too much
room. Mr S insisted that we have one, because he hates being
cold, but I think we over-catered. We could grow orchids in the
house, if we only had the room.
Two giant wing-backed chairs in front of the stove are great for Mr S
and I, but our friends are vociferous about having to stand when they
come to visit.
We've always loved having friends to share a meal with us, but the only
way we are going to seat 14 people for dinner again is if we do it
outside.
The kitchen is the size of a pocket-hanky, which is fine for a cook
like Mr S, who is infuriatingly neat, and washes up as he goes
along. For more expressive cooks - like me - this is the kitchen
from hell.
What to do? Engaging Mr S on the subject is not easy. Last
week he planted up his first vegetable bed, and obsessive doesn't begin
to describe his behavior. Those vegetables are in danger of being
stared to death. It rained solidly all last week, but undeterred,
Mr. S has been splashing about in the garden, sending back hourly
reports from the front, as dozens of baby vegetables struggled to keep
their heads above water.
The strawberry garden went in yesterday during a brief break in the
weather. Root vegetables are his next target. Moderation is
a stranger to Mr S.
Mercifully, we have a furniture maker living across the road. He
has agreed to make us a console table to hold a large wooden sculpture
that is currently reclining on an even bigger table. I thought we
could maybe just chop the end off the big table, and stick the legs
back on, but evidently tables don't work like that. Nothing is
ever that simple, is it?
Down-shifting is obviously a much more complicated task than I thought.
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Change of Life 
