Painting walls, not pictures

We've been in this house ten months now and it's time to start tarting the old girl up.  We have jokingly given the house a name - Turd Hall (or Tird Hall for posher spelling) as with two cats and a dog there is a lot of shit to pick up! Also as I get the shits with work quite a lot it's appropriate. But I digress…

So the tarting has commenced.

Firstly I had a painter - delectable Daniel, so cute I could almost eat him - do the outside woodwork around the windows.

Inspired by Daniel, who made the woodwork absolutely sing, I decided to paint the inside window trim in the living room and re-lacquer the windowsills because it looked so bloody disgusting compared to the outside woodwork. It took me a weekend and got me back into the swing of painting. I realise I am going about this upside down as the ceilings should come first, then the walls, then the trim, but oh well!!

Ready to go!

Done!

I also repainted the inside front door jamb after spending a couple of weeks mucking around with Plastic Wood and sandpaper restoring a section which had been thoroughly chewed by a friend's dog (hate to think of the splinters the poor dog must have got in her mouth!). It's not absolutely perfect - which is annoying to this perfectionist - but on first glance you wouldn't know there had ever been damage. It's not like it was a square piece either, there was a little recessed bit I had to match. I am considering becoming a sculptor using Plastic Wood as my medium!

Job done  - just have to pull the tape off.

After the delectable smell of oil enamel and turps had faded, I got withdrawal symptoms and wanted another nice task. By that stage I'd amassed around 50 colour swatches for the hall, living room and main bedroom. I bought a few sample tins and did some sections here and there on various walls. For a few days there were parts of the hall which looked positively patchwork as I tried them out!

Tird Hall is double brick and the interior walls are cement rendered, so it's a rough surface and interesting, if a bit labour-intensive, to paint over. The nice thing is that because of the surface you can be a bit slapdash with the roller and it won't show in which direction you've rolled.

The hall was originally yellow and while I wasn't enamoured of it, plenty of farting around with colours brought me back to yellow, but a lighter and more citron shade. The hall is pretty dark so needed a light and warm colour. I don't do cream. I did try with some cream sample paint but I rebelled against it. It's just not me.

I dithered about waiting until we'd had the ceiling painted, but then I thought: I'm a mucky pup when it comes to painting around cornices. I'll be really cross if I get paint from the walls on newly-painted cornices. I can easily touch up the wall for any paint spatters from the ceiling.

Before. The paint looked tired, it had worn away around the light switch, it had scuff marks that wouldn't shift and it was plainly dingy.

So I got the blue painter's tape out and got taping around door jambs, cupboards and skirting in the hall. It took me a roll and a half to do the job properly - it's a big t-shaped hall. I thought, "It's not a huge painting job - there are plenty of cupboards taking up space." Well. The first coat and a bit of the second to use up the paint in the roller tray took me eight straight hours. I didn't even stop for lunch as I was getting a bit tired by then and thought if I stopped, I'd STOP.  My arms were a bit sore at the end of the day and I was getting blisters from the roller handle.

After. You can see there's a slight citron tinge to the yellow.

Nonetheless, it looked great. And the good news is it only took me four hours to complete the second coat the next day. I was on a roller - er, roll - by then.  When I peeled away the tape there was very little paint where there shouldn't have been paint and the carpets didn't get a single drop on them. Phew.

My paint job was very neat - but my clothes weren't by the end of it!

Last weekend's project was the woodwork around the exterior of the front door - undercoat and two coats of glossy white enamel. The paint was original, i.e. 1960 vintage! And it looked it. It was peeling here and there where it hadn't yellowed. Now it's all shiny white again. Have to figure out how to repair the door sill though; it's falling apart.

What's next? Paint the screen door at the front its old original glossy black, as well as the matching grilles which go in front of the windows on either side. I've sanded the grilles ready for undercoat but have to sand and rustproof the front door.  I won't get the opportunity to pick up a brush this weekend though, dammit!!! We have too many social activities planned. Hmmph!!

Colour my world - or at least my mid-century house

This place is dingy. Seriously. A number of the walls are still proudly bearing their original 1960 paint job and while the paint is clinging happily on the internal walls with no sign of peeling, 54 years of wear and tear means there are places I just can't get clean, no matter how much sugar soap I apply. Paint has worn away near the light switches and the poor old place just looks a little underloved.

It's worse outside. The house is red brick, which is a blessing as the walls don't need painting. However all the north-facing windows have peeling paint to an embarrassing extent. Until now we haven't been able to do much about it as we have been saving - or at least G has - for the paint job.

I had a painter out today and if I may digress for a moment, my God he was cute! Dark eyes, dark hair; he had the look of a guy I had a crush on in my teens - a jockey, but he was taller. If I was younger I'd be tempted to try a Mrs Robinson. On looks alone he had the potential to pull me back from my current asexual status (digressing even more, I have been both sexual and asexual during different times in my life). He knew his stuff, too. We chatted about paints and techniques and paint additives, la la la…

So now I'm awaiting his quotes. Three quotes. One for outside, one for the ceilings and stairwell inside, and one for the internal walls in some of the rooms/hall. I'm capable of doing the internal walls myself but a) he'll do a nicer job and leave less mess on the carpets and everything else and b) because I feel obliged to answer every phone call and email I get, I doubt I'll have the time. There are lots of walls. Depending on the price I may have to pull the plug on the internet and put the phone on silent for a few days.

He left me with some colour charts to whet my appetite, and duly whetted it is. I have found colours that more or less match the original 1960 colours in the living room and our bedroom. The living room is the old colour Chartreuse (pale yellowy green) on three walls with an aqua feature wall. It rocks. I'm keeping the colour scheme as it suits the house and looks wonderful with the big stone fireplace. The bedroom is a pale ice green and I'm repainting in a very close colour as it's restful and brings the garden inside.

Our hall and stairway are currently yellow and I'm going for a lighter version as it's dark in the hallway. I'm hoping the colour I've chosen won't turn out looking cream as I detest cream walls. Too 'reproduction fuddy duddy' for me - makes me think of people with reproduction Chippendale antiques and uncomfortable chairs topped with antimacassars. And… too much like the cheap neutral colour you get in rental properties which looks 'dirty' very quickly. The British equivalent is a colour called 'Magnolia'.

The second bedroom was originally pale pink and repainted yellow in 1974. I'm sticking with a yellow as it's on the south side of the house and needs a bright, warm colour. The 50s colour palette was pretty well out there - yellow was a popular colour.

My office originally had pale-ish pink walls too but got a coat of white in the 70s. I like the white. This is a small, dark room and needs light, lovely walls. I'm choosing a variant of white. Not terribly 50s but I need the brightness.

The laundry has yellow walls the same as the hall, and they look odd with grey floor tiles and deep aqua (Amulet Blue as I recall, or Apmat Blue as my Dad used to call them, after a famous pacer of the day) wall tiles. I've chosen a white with a hint of grey/green which will look much fresher.

The bathroom and loo originally had pink walls (Mum LOVED pale pink. I don't) which Mum and I repainted in the late 80s/early 90s in a colour called Beige Shroud. Yup. Ugly name. The colour isn't fab either but we wanted to move from the pink which looked too dark in the room. You still get a hint of pink through two layers of Beige Shroud. That pink doesn't give up a fight easily. Beige Shroud is going though. I'm not heading back to pink but have found an interesting shade of pale green with a hint of mushroom grey called China White by Dulux which will complement the tiles better and look just cracking. It's not dissimilar to some of the colours from a 50s palette. I'll be painting the loo and bathroom myself.

So that's it. The kitchen is fine as I repainted it in the original blue and white 12 years ago and the paint looks fine. I'll redo the white oil enamel on the cupboard doors as they could do with a lift but the walls are fine.

Our plan is to get the outside stuff done this year. Depending on the quotes we may then get Daniel - Daniel….Daniel… those eyes! - to do the ceilings before Christmas too. It's exciting. And I think this house will appreciate the time and money spent on it.

And I suspect that next time I visit a psychic I'll get a message that Mum is relieved I have painted the outside woodwork!

Embracing my mid-century modern heart

In my twenties, I rebelled.

Not in the usual way - the sex, drugs, rock'n'roll way. Nope. I rebelled against the house and furnishings I'd grown up with. Mum's house was firmly held in a late 50s/early 60s time warp. Atomic furniture with little legs that diminished in diameter until they were almost pins at floor levels. Tangerine dining chairs. French polish everywhere. Colourful walls when the world was heading to white. And the bar in the living room - black glass top with yellow vinyl sides - oh no, how horrible! How …. embarrassing!!!

My taste vacillated between the modern - and we're talking 1980s, yikes! - and the more distant past as I hit my 30s. In the 80s I bought some questionable storage furniture from Freedom Furniture which, sadly, I still have as we need the storage facility. By my mid-30s I was into 1920s, Edwardian and art deco, even a jaunt here and there into repro Georgian, which didn't quite fit into this very 1959 property. I tried my best, buying two beautiful Edwardian chairs and a recliner that could have been designed by Charles Rennie Mackintosh but I don't think it was. I swapped my bed for one with a gorgeous iron frame. I bought a 1920s maple wardrobe. I created my own little 1920s hideaway downstairs. When I moved out I took the 1920s with me and created a cosy cottage which mixed a bit of Danish with earlier pieces and repro.

Having inherited Mum's house, with its original wall paint, original kitchen, mostly original bathroom and laundry, I have seen my childhood home with new eyes. It rocks.

I love the big stone fireplace in the living room. I love the yellow bar. I love the 1950s pulldown light over the dining table. I love most of the wall colours. I find myself tending the French polished doors and trying to get scratches out of them, and cursing Mum for touching up one of them with varnish that looks bloody shocking in daylight.

Slowly I am trying to refurnish the living room to period furniture - or at least get rid of most of the 80s stuff Mum bought when she was feeling a bit flush and some of my own contributions. You can see by my previous post I have a new dining suite. On the other side of the room there is a hodgepodge of 80s sideboard and repro Queen Anne hi fi cabinet (yes, of course Queen Anne loved a good CD or vinyl) which is going to go when I've saved up enough to buy a period sideboard from the late 50s.

This house isn't the best example of Mid-Century Modern, but it has good bones. Mum was about five years too old to really embrace the Atomic look or go for a mad coloured mural on the wall such as that at Rose Seidler House. Being a child of the Depression, she was thrifty. She may have lashed out on tangerine chairs and a green lounge suite that were the height of fashion in 1960, but the mirrors in this place are early 50s or 1940s, for example. There's a mix of decor which basically ended in 1960.

With the research I've done this year on mid-century modern furniture and decor, I have fallen in love with the simplicity and elegance of it. I think it has been creeping up on me. I used to drool over IKEA catalogues at our old house, loving the simple Scandinavian design with its nod towards the great designers of the 50s and 60s. Now I'm hooked. I get on Pinterest and drool for hours over chairs, sideboards, tables, paint colours and architecture.

I think I've found my life's work: making this house what it should be. A paean to the mid-century modern era.

Now I just need to win the lottery - do you know how much some of this stuff COSTS!!!???

What would my aunt Betty have said?

My aunt Betty could be a bitch. She was a master at the backhanded compliment, or occasionally simply rude and abusive. In particular, her bitchy side came across if my mother (her sister) or my grandparents bought anything new. It could be an item of clothing, or a piece of furniture. Her middle name wasn't 'Jealous', but it should have been.

Betty hated people 'getting ahead' if she wasn't. Her rage at Mum's new car in 1979 was spectacular. Mum's previous car had lasted since 1963 and at that point I took it over and kept it in the family. Mum had been putting money aside for years to buy a new car and was so proud to be able to show it to her sister; she thought Betty would be pleased for her. Betty, of course, was anything but and accused Mum of stealing money from their recently-dead mother's estate to buy the car. Betty's car at that time was early 70s and huge, a big old V8 that gobbled up the miles and the petrol in equal quantities. Until Mum bought her new little hatchback, Betty was fond of jibing in a very superior manner at Mum's '63 Beetle, joking nastily about the size of the engine and little Herbie's hill-climbing abilities, and how much better her big Falcon was.

When I bought my first horse at 16, a heavyset but stunning white grey galloway, Betty was quick to sneer that she was going to buy her daughter "a horse of greater quality".  (It turned out to be an undistinguished bay and in all the photos she sent I never once saw it going properly on the bit.)

In the 1980s interest rates went skywards which was crap if you had a mortgage (Mum didn't) and great if you were trying to save. Mum's term deposits were doing well enough for her to spend a couple of grand on a new lounge suite and dining setting in 1985.  By that time, Betty had been dead nearly four years; her raging bitterness had morphed into an aggressive cancer which saw her in the ground only six weeks from diagnosis. Mum and I were not invited to the funeral.

I thought at the time Betty would have put a hole in the ceiling if she'd seen the lounge suite and new table and chairs. She was probably watching from above (or below!) gibbering with rage.

This week, nearly thirty years later, I have replaced the dining setting with an early 1960s setting which better suits this mid-century house. I bought the table and chairs from two different eBay sellers but thankfully the wood colour is a good match. I have the 1980s one for sale on eBay and Gumtree and nobody seems to want it (bugger).

G and I moved it in yesterday and stood back admiring it. The table is teak and by Parker; it extends to 215 cm.  The chairs are also teak, and the seats and spade-shaped backs are teal vinyl and in great condition; still padded after all these years. As I set them under the table for the first time Betty came to mind. She'd find fault with it or sneer that I bought a 'second-hand' dining suite.

We invited the Whingies to dinner. I told them we had bought some new furniture but wouldn't say what so I would have them intrigued. Mr Whingy, who came earlier in the afternoon to fix a couple of power points for us and install groovy new lights in the hallway, admired the table and said his mother had had one very similar. He loved the quality of the wood.

Whingy herself, however, was rather dismissive. "Oh, what was wrong with the old one?"

"It was out of place in this room," I answered. "This new one is very similar to the original one Mum bought in 1959. It suits the room better."

I was struck (not for the first time) at how very like aunt Betty Whingy is. I didn't need to wonder what Betty would say - Whingy said it! Like Betty, she never seems to be happy if someone ELSE gets something new - but you hear all about it in bold cap type if Whingy does.

Whingy, predictably, hated the chairs. "Oh, they're not as padded as your other chairs. They're very hard on my bottom. What's wrong with the other chairs? Why get rid of them?"

"I found the other chairs hard on my back, as they were very straight-backed. These chairs have a nice curved back," I responded politely, thinking, get some meat on your scrawny arse, you cow, and you won't find the chairs uncomfortable. "And I love the colour of these ones."

"I like the other setting." Whingy pointedly went and sat on the sofa while I dished out dinner, only returning to the 'hard' chairs to eat. I kept filling her wine glass. I find that helps. She's never as sour after a couple of wines.

Two hours later her grumpiness had faded to a grudging cheeriness but I was still marvelling at how like aunt Betty she is. I 'spoke to Mum' as I was cooking pudding - that is, I talked quietly out loud as I believe Mum still hangs around - and shared my thoughts on Betty and Whingy. Mum never really warmed to Whingy and thought she was rather like Betty, but I'd never seen the Bettiness so much in action as last night.

Anyway, I like my new dining setting. It's comfortable. It's beautifully designed and elegant. It makes the room look bigger and makes Mum's early-70s glass fronted teak display cabinet look like it belongs in the room too. I am not a fan of the display cabinet, but now I think I can live with it and it perhaps isn't as hideous as I think it is.

And here are the groovy new lights in the hallway. Whingy didn't find much fault with them; but by then she'd had a few. So I'll never know what Aunt Betty may have thought of them!

The Great Sortout continues… and moves to Etsy!

A couple of weeks ago I opened a couple of Pandora's Boxes - namely a large camphor wood chest and a smaller one. They were full of clothing Mum had kept for whatever reason:

• Some were mine from my babyhood and toddler days, lovely quality stuff
• Some were hers from the 40s and 50s
• Some were mine from my adulthood and I confess I was responsible for putting them there

I sighed. It was a sigh of nostalgia and a sigh of frustration, as it meant more sorting out and deciding what to do with stuff. Yes, I could leave it there. It wasn't hurting anyone. But living here I feel a bit stifled and overcome by STUFF from time to time. I don't need all of it. I don't need half of it.

So I sorted and got five piles:

• Back in the camphor wood. This included some of Mum's old 40s and 50s lovelies, as well as some clothing she'd made for me in the 80s, which was of a superb standard and - bugger it - doesn't fit over my bum anymore. However, I love the clothes and know how much love, frustration and pricked fingers went into making them.
• In the bin. Some of the toddler clothes were simply buggered. They had been good once but obviously I was hard on clothes as a kid. Mum must have kept them for sentimental reasons but they were my clothes after all and I can decide what goes. There was also some very holey woollen underwear. Nuff said.
• For my granddaughter - or step-granddaughter. There were several very good items, classic in look or unique enough not to look dated - which I've parcelled off to her. Sadly that only got rid of about six items.
• For charity. This was a small pile as a lot of the stuff is dated but I managed to find some items which wouldn't sell on the internet but were suitable for charity, in good condition and quite classic in style.
• On sale. eBay is my weapon of choice but with so much vintage stuff on hand I decided to start an Etsy shop. I'm delighted I got the name KeepCalmNBuyVintage… anything with the Keep Calm… theme is highly popular. One little pink day dress in particular is beautiful and pristine. Fit for a princess. I hope it sells and goes to a good home. I have no reason to keep it; I can't remember wearing it but I suspect I was posed in it for a birthday photo, possibly my third. It must have been very expensive at the time. The label shows no signs of repeated washing. Knowing me I would have yelled that I'd rather be wearing shorts or trousers, the tomboy that I was.

You won't be surprised to hear that the camphor wood chests are both still quite full even after all that. I'll have to do another purge in six months. The first run-through was rather emotional for me. There were things I just couldn't part with right now; it's only been a few months since I lost Mum.  Half the time I was sorting I was missing her dreadfully - the other half I was expecting her to walk into the room saying, "You can't throw that good thing away!"

So my sales continue. I've had a run on my babyhood/early childhood toys. Mum had kept nearly all of them and I threw most of the stuffed toys away as they were no good for charity. Too old and manky. I kept Ted and Kitty though!! Lovely Ted, my best friend until I started school, and Kitty, a cat who used to meow and has been loved so hard her fur and ears have disappeared. 

I had some great wooden pull along toys and early Fisher Price toys which sold on eBay, many of them not for the prices I'd hoped for, sadly. However, a Tonka truck I had got three figures, which was just champion!  

Now all the toys have been sold and I'm onto odd homewares. I can't understand why a Wedgwood dish as new and still in its box isn't getting bids. A film splicer and a pair of scratched opera glasses sold on eBay though, as did an orange cow money box and other mid-century goodies.

There's another box high up in one of the cupboards which I packed for eBay etc earlier this year, and once I've cleared the current crop of sales I'll get started on that one.  

Then when they're all sold I'll go through the house again and work out what else can go. My office has a bookcase of books from the 40s and 50s and I really don't know who'll take them as they aren't first editions. Some of them I'll keep and I'm trying to read my way through them to see if there are any more I want to hang onto. I may have to bring an antiquarian book person in. 

There are also some lovely anthologies from the 20s and 30s for children, particularly girls, and I won't part with them for anything. "The Big Book of School Stories for Girls", for example. The relevance of English boarding schools to Australian girls has to be pondered, but Mum said books such as this were her Christmas or birthday present, to be treasured unconditionally. I suspect they were second-hand when she received them, too; it was the Depression and my grandparents wouldn't have been able to afford brand new books. And you know what? I'm truly enjoying the stories! A lovely diversion when I want to get away from the computer for a bit.

I'd like to say that I'm saving everything I make from selling my childhood and other items, but I'm not. Everything I've made has been spent on day to day living. Wish I could unearth a Picasso in a cupboard but Mum hated his work!

The Constant Gardener

Coming back here to live presented me with a challenge - namely 89 pot plants from large to small on the balcony, many of which were destined to be planted out in the garden.

Before they could be planted, garden beds needed to be created.

I am proud to say that one has been (with two to go). G and I worked over the Easter break to dig a bed one metre wide and 22 metres long along one boundary of the property. It curves in front of two existing mature camellias, one of which is the same age as I. G was in the throes of a head cold and the hard work just about did him in (thank heavens for life insurance in case it did!).

We had to clear a couple of metres wide and deep full of fishbone fern on the left hand end. Well, I did, while G ripped out some Morning Glory. Mistress of the Mattock, me. Fishbone fern leaves horrible little balls behind it, the seeds for more to come up, so I had to mattock it out chunk by chunk then sift through the soil to get the seeds. In short it took eight hours to weed that patch over about three days.

In the middle of my mattocking I got 'bitten' by the neighbouring palm. Cutting a long story short, two of my fingers swelled like sausages, I had to have a ring cut off, I was on antibiotics for ten days and a week after the event I pulled a 7mm thorn out of one knuckle after it had festered satisfactorily. I was so pissed off about the whole thing I got the tree fellers to get rid of the bastard.

The tree fellers also took out two japonicas which had grown into an ugly mound (covered in Morning Glory too), an under performing wisteria which had flowered maybe ten years out of the last fifty, and a Carissa which was doing OK but frankly I had other plants I'd sooner put in there.

After the tree fellers had done their stuff and Sam the Stumpy had ground the stumps, we got stuck in with mattock and shovel, digging up turf for the beds. Our lawn used to be all buffalo but over the years some crap grass has started to take over. We threw the crap grass in the green bin and reused the buffalo turf on other parts of the lawn.

In the meantime I'd been to a plant collectors' fair and bought seven hydrangeas, six salvias and a collection of other useful, pretty or edible plants such as Cordyalis, Cat's Whiskers, Campanula, Omphalodes, Liliums, Broccoli and Cauliflower, all for the new garden bed. You see, I may have 89 pots on the balcony but they aren't all destined for this particular garden bed. The six roses will have their own bed, the four or five pots of bearded Iris will be in a third bed, and my orchid collection will be staying on the balcony.

I was able to move a number of pots from the balcony down to the new bed:

• 2 miniature fruit trees, a peach and a nectarine
• 1 Camellia Sasanqua Paradise Vanessa
• 1 Camellia Japonica Black Magic (red flower)
• 1 Hibiscus
• 1 pot of Melissa (lemon balm) which divided into a number of smaller plants
• 1 Brazilian Cherry. This was quite large and we lowered it over the balcony with thick rope. Digging the hole for it nearly toppled G.
• 1 Tibouchina Jules
• 2 Hydrangeas - Ayesha and Endless Summer. Ayesha was in a big tub too.
• 1 Nellie Kelly Blueberry bush
• 1 pot of Patchouli
• 6 pelargoniums, some scented, some just with pretty flowers
• 1 Deutzia
• 1 Japanese Windflower

Phew!!!

Because I'm too lazy to photo stitch a panorama together, here are three images showing the new garden beds.

Left hand side

Centre, with my two mature Camellias and the two fruit trees in front of them. Lots of veggies planted here!

Right hand side. The Brazilian Cherry is the biggest of the plants in the new garden and stands nearly 1.5 metres.

The overall colour scheme is white, red, blue and some existing pale pink (i.e. the mature camellias). I love strong colours and the red and blue salvias should look truly striking when they grow and are in full bloom.

This afternoon I planted some dwarf peas in the right hand side of the bed. All the salvias etc planted there won't grow enormous overnight but I'm hoping for good things by springtime, by which time the peas will all be harvested. And I can plant tomatoes there then.

This is exciting for me. I love gardening. I love growing things. We are hampered as the garden is built on sandstone; parts of the lawn only have about 20cm of soil under them before you hit bedrock. Mum never wanted big garden beds, even though she was a keen gardener too. She had some shrubs along here, but I think the whole area will look fab when the taller plants grow at the back and the salvias and metre high plants grow in front of them, with annuals, veggies and smaller perennials at the front.

So now I'll be a constant gardener. Having created this lot it's my job to keep the weeds out of it. I need to mulch it. I also need to build a little wall to ward the grass off and stop it encroaching, but that will happen when we build the second garden bed in another part of the garden, as it will be a raised bed with a retaining wall. Until then it'll be me and my trusty lawn shears. I don't trust G with the whipper snipper, he's just as likely to behead the broccoli. 

Stay tuned for close up pics when we get a nice sunny day. It's been raining on and off since we planted out, which is a good thing for the young plants and those older ones who are probably shuddering in shock at being transplanted.

My gardening jeans are standing up by themselves with the dirt in them, my gardening gloves stink. Stink, I say! I'll have to wash them too. During the week it took to dig and create this garden I worked an average three or so hours a day, some days more, and it wasn't girly stuff with a trowel, it was mattocking or pulling out Morning Glory (bastard of a thing) and poisoning it. I was hauling pots and tubs down from the house and being happily, exhaustingly active. After the second or third day my muscles stopped complaining and I reckon that mattock did wonders for the bingo wings. Beats working at a computer any day!

The Mid-Century Modern House - the Kitchen

I love a blue and white kitchen - there is something fresh and cool about cooking with restful blue around you. This is the kitchen I have known for most of my life. It was fitted out in 1960 and the only major things that have been replaced are:

• the wall oven - replaced in 1985, and the current one is still working
• the fridge - replaced in the 80s and then in 2002
• the dishwasher - replaced twenty years ago
• the floor covering - replaced in about 1970 with a repulsive golden vinyl with specks of gold glitter in it (which was a bugger to wash and polish), then thankfully thanks to a water leak and a subsequent insurance payout, replaced eight years ago with something much fresher and more classic
• the original extractor fan was replaced with a range hood in the 1980s
• the original in sink disposal unit (which could gobble up pieces of glass, a favourite party trick of my Dad's apparently) died a death and an Insinkerator was installed in the 80s. I have never tried to put pieces of glass through it!

So… I still have the original stovetop:

Here's the stove in situ. I need to repaint all the cupboards and drawers. The cats have scratched the bottom ones here and there, and the colour I chose - Dulux White Birch, because it wasn't stark white - has turned too creamy. I'll repaint in… a stark white!

And look at this! It's the panel for the original dishwasher. We left it there as the middle knob controls the Insinkerator.

Over this side are the posh glasses and dishes in a display cabinet. More posh stuff in the cupboards and drawers below.

The walls had their original paint until 2002 when I repainted them in much the same colours. I used a darker blue on the centre servery. The original paint on the centre column and bar was two-tone, where you paint a dark colour first, then a light colour, and rub off the light colour on the textured bits. I tried that and failed miserably! Here's the centre servery area - the drawer which is pulled out is the everyday cutlery drawer, and it's a two way drawer, so you can load clean cutlery in from the sink side and pull it out on the kitchen table side. Clever thinking from my parents!

  Here are some kitchen vignettes - the original plant stand  - love it!

Here's a wider view of our kitchen dining area. Nice floor vinyl, eh?

My Mixmaster, a perfect retro fit.

This little donkey has been around for longer than I have and has always lived on top of the fridge. You can put a little pot plant in his wagon but we never have. I think he was a gift from my paternal grandmother.

These oil bottles are well cool! Aren't they cute? The cork is a bit buggered on the French one but I can still get it to work. I don't remember Mum ever using them but I intend to for parties etc. They are too good to leave on the shelf.

More funky late 50s kitchenalia, a lovely big salt cellar and more oil bottles. They are made here in Australia. I don't know if they may have been wedding presents in 1950. They are glazed and unglazed ceramic.

We have a number of feature tiles studding the walls, all of Australian native plants. 

More smart design - a pullout chopping board, proudly showing the signs of age. A huge (for the time) utensil drawer is underneath.

I have friends who keep pestering me to get a new kitchen, but honestly we can't afford it and this one still works. True, I have to replace a handle on one of the big drawers as it's broken off, and there is one big corner cupboard we call the TARDIS as it's amazing how much you can fit into it, which needs slamming very hard to close. But hey, I'm used to it. 

All the cupboards and drawers are solid wood. The drawers are dovetailed. The quality that went into building this kitchen, which is built, frankly, like a brick shithouse, is amazing. I couldn't afford to replace it with the same level of quality, even though new kitchens have some fab pantry features. It's lasted 54 years and fingers crossed will last many more. New kitchens are designed to last 25 years at the most, and who needs the expense of replacing a kitchen every 20 years or so?

Like much of this house, the kitchen is original. As I don't intend to sell in the foreseeable future, I can live quite happily with my 1960 world.