the-brocantebedroom

 

Well now, during 2016 I worked my way through the seasons, creating five lovely new downloads celebrating all the tiny joys particular to Winter, Spring, Summer, Autumn and the Festive Season and in the same vein, during 2017 I plan to work my way through each and every room in your house so that by the end of the year you will have a gorgeous library full of interior inspiration the Brocante way…

I am starting with the bedroom on or after January 16th 2017 , for it is here that we are our most essential selves and thus it is here that we must begin to do the work necessary to create an authentic home that reflects who we truly are and who, in all our tomorrows, we hope to be…

So what will be included in each of my Room Series downloads?

* The essence of a life less ordinary in that room.
* An essay capturing all the pleasures of the Brocante way of life in each room
* The ten essential things central to living life the Brocante way in the room concerned.
* How to nurture your soul with a long list of lovely room-specific Brocante puttery treats.
* Housekeeping specifics for each room.
* Using essential oils to create atmosphere with my very own blends.
* A list of decorating do’s and don’ts…
* A book list for further reading…
* And all the quotes and pretty pictures you need to inspire your creativity…

Sound good? I promise it really will be a cornucopia of the kind of inspiration you need to bring together all the strands of living life the Brocante way in to one beautiful, meaningful tapestry…

Ok so here’s the deal: an extra-scrumptious, twelves deals of Christmas kind of deal!

Order The Brocante Bedroom today and you can grab it for half the usual price of $15.00 with the code CHRISTMAS11. (offer ends on the 8th of December 2016)

So for just $7.50 you can kickstart your collection of my BrocanteHome Room Guides and make this the year you really commit to making your house the home you know it could be…

Let’s do this one together: join the Living Room today and get 25% off each and every guide I produce along with support and inspiration from my wonderful community of women seeking a life less ordinary, or join the SALON (there’s an extra special Salon offer for members of my Living Room in the Facebook community at the moment don’t you know?) and get everything in the Brocante store, and everything else I create during the lifetime of your membership ABSOLUTELY FREE…

Won’t you join me in raising a glass of mulled wine to a lovelier way of life? Order The Brocante Bedroom today… 

twelve deals of Christmas

 

Heckity Pie yes. It’s Black Friday and though the very idea of trampling over other people to grab a big tele makes me shudder, today right here on BrocanteHome I am joining in the madness because I am feeling that way inclined…

I am kicking off with HALF -PRICE ACCESS to my oh so lovely Living Room. Yep though the Living Room usually costs $15.00 for the year, for this, the first week of Twelve Christmas Deals, you can get full access to our lovely Facebook group, 25% off everything in the Brocante store for the life of your membership, a FREE Heart and Home Planner (worth $15.00 all by itself!) and all of the other benefits of membership listed here for just $7.50!

And the very best part? Buy your Living Room membership today and that price is locked in for always! So even if it shoots up in price over the coming years, you will never pay more than $7.50 for the lifetime of your membership AND very soon you will be able to access all the Living Room benefits of my gorgeous new School of Life as part of that subscription.

Want in? Of course you do! There are now over five hundred members of my lovely Living Room and though not all join in the life-improving, supportive and inspirational chatter over in the Facebook group (Oh but you must! It’s so lovely!), so many write to me daily to tell me that membership of BrocanteHome is helping them to clear a path towards a life less ordinary and I cannot tell you how much that gladdens my heart for it is I suppose my raison d’etre.

Ok so here’s what you need to do to join…

  • Hop over to this page before Tuesday 29th November and click Living Room Membership.
  • Apply the discount code “Black Friday” when you are prompted and $7.50 will come off the full price of $15.00 immediately…
  • Note down your the email address and password you used to sign up because you will need them to access the Living Room resources here on BrocanteHome.
  • Hop over to our Facebook group page and request an invitation, but please note: if your name on Facebook is different to that you have used to sign up, I will not recognise you, so do please drop me a quick line and I will be able to match your invitation to your subscription.
  • Once you have received email confirmation of your subscription you can make your way to this page and log in, then have a little look around all the lovely resources here…
  • You can also check the status of you account on this page at anytime during your subscription.
  • Should you find that your account says “pending” please allow up to twelve hours for the system to recognize your payment. If thereafter you still cannot access the Living Room do let me know and I will manually access it for you. Some browsers simply do not play nice!

Finally I am away this weekend on a jaunt to a lovely hotel in celebration of my friends fortieth birthday and in the meantime comments and my own inbox have been paused so I don’t miss anything important as I am so very prone to do when life gets in the way!

Have a wonderful weekend and I shall look forward to personally welcoming you into The Living Room upon my return.x 

P.S: If you are an existing member of the Living Room (or indeed join this weekend!) do look out for an extra special Salon Upgrade offer today in the Living Room Facebook group won’t you? It’s just for you…

Audit

 

Here we are again: time to get a grip on my head and my heart by auditing the ins and outs of my world. As always please feel free to steal the graphic and do a life audit of your own, or indeed download the Life Audit PDF (it’s free) and get your pencil out…

Today I am…

Organising the Christmas budget on YNAB. Dressed in about thirty layers of thermals and the kind of slipper socks so thick I rather feel as though my feet have gone numb. Drinking Yogi Moon Cycle tea because it helps. Thoroughly unable to catch the cold that has been lurking around my nostrils for a few days now, threatening to floor me but rather pathetically turning out to be nothing more than a very irritating sniffle. Excited because there is finally grass in my garden. (Yay! Thank-you Builder Men!). Fighting a losing battle with the muddy feet traipsing in an out of my little blue-tiled porch. Receiving parcel after parcel for neighbours who never seem to be home.

Feeling…

Embarrassed after nearly knocking a woman out with a cocktail shaker. Don’t ask. Scattered. Immensely frustrated and positively demented by technical issues here at BrocanteHome. You see I just want to write but writing time is lost to endless admin issues and computer problems and I rather feel like banging my head against a brick wall. When oh when did blogging get so complicated? If I could roll back to five years ago I really think I would. I truly miss offering little snippets of daily inspiration and my work-life balance is so skewhiff I feel exhausted so something has got to give though I do not know what yet. One idea I have been considering though is a move away for printables to simply writing for the Kindle then dear old Amazon could handle the relentless trauma of lost passwords and email inboxes that swallow downloads…

Reading…

Ste laughs because he cannot fathom my method of reading: I usually have at least two books on the go (truth… maybe three. Or four. Or twenty-nine if you count what goes on inside my Kindle.): a novel for snuggling up with and some sort of self-help, life enhancing/thigh-slimming/business orientated affair on the coffee table for browsing during elevenses. Tonight’s novel then is The Blue Castle by Lucy Maud Montgomery, though I have read it before, because this 1920’s fairy-tale is ultimately so life-affirming and it is Lucy Maud for heavens sake: what’s not to like on a cosy November evening? And my coffee table book is Lisa Sugar’s Power Your Happy: Work Hard, Play Nice & Build Your Dream Life because I’m hoping she is a lady who has been in my shoes and cares to share a way through the madness that is online business…

Eating…

Roasted vegetable with halloumi. Or cubes of feta and a splash of balsamic. Roasted vegetables blitzed with a cup full of stock in my Nutribullet for the fastest bowl of soup in the land. Roasted vegetables on a puff pastry base. Umm, yeah: roasted vegetables night after night after night. Roasted at the beginning of the week and stored in an airtight container and used for everything from soups to stews. Oooh and pickled onions. I can’t get enough pickled onions. I’m all sorts of wrong these days. With pickled onion breath.

Planning…

A reversal back to our old routine now Ste’s short dalliance with shift work is at an end and life can go back to normal. A new one-stop dreamy place for my membership groups The Salon and The Living Room. Beavering away behind the scenes to bring it to life as fast as possible. Staying up late with a furrowed brow and the kind of creative inspiration that has got me firing on all cylinders. A weekend away with Kath, Diane and Emma this Saturday to celebrate Emma’s birthday. And gifts for the two “brothers” Finley didn’t have just two years ago – Mark’s son Sam who is so cute he is almost edible, and who will turn two at the beginning of December, and Ste’s son Stevie who will be eleven a few days later and who arrives at my house every second Friday and quickly collapses into Finley inspired giggles that remind me how very blessed we are to be family.

Dreaming of…

A nap. Are you a napper? Oh but you must be! There is nothing quite so wonderful as stealing a geranium scented afternoon nap now is there? Particularly if the house is quiet and you can slip between the sheets for the kind of drowsy, battery-charging slumber one can only really enjoy during the afternoon slump. Pity there is so very much to do today and the chance of a nap is up there with the chance of me re-inventing myself as an Instagram bikini model. Some days dreams will be dreams and simply refuse to become reality, damn them. Speaking of geranium though… I have a new ritual that involves cleansing my face before a much coveted nap and then massaging it with the blend of almond and geranium oil I have come to associate with switching my over-active mind off…

Coveting…

This (swoon) and This and This.

Wishing…

I wasn’t growing a beard. No really. I swear I am growing a beard if seven rather persistent hairs can be considered beardy? Also wishing my bedroom was the sanctuary I need it to be RIGHT NOW -long before in fact I have got to get Ste to understand that cream paint is not just cream paint and there will be a whole lot of dithering before I actually take the plunge and apply paint to the walls. And much more dithering after that as the search continues for suitable wardrobes. For frankly what possessed me to leave my wardrobes with the new owner of my little old house is quite beyond me. I can only surmise it was the hiatus hernia tablets that send me off my head and made me thrust generosity into that young mans face.

Working On…

Everything. No really: EVERYTHING! Ste is working overnight and the plans I had for the evening were cancelled so I am taking the opportunity to print out my Leonie Dawson Life and Biz workbooks, for OH YES the 2017 workbooks are here!!  Did you hear me: the Leonie Dawson Workbooks (and wall-planners, and diaries and to-do lists) are here! Roll on my 2016 Closing Ceremony for heaven knows I am so ready to say goodbye to this year and hello to a new one blessed by certainty and security please…

Celebrating…

Ste’s new job with a meal tomorrow night with our boys at a local Turkish restaurant with great hummus, chosen because they have extensive gluten free options for Finn and a meat heavy menu for Stevie who is close to being the world’s fussiest eater but will eat meat until the cows come home. Oooh and did I mention the hummus? Its the best. 

Grateful For…

So much on this the American day of gratitude. This house – because it makes me smile when I creep down first thing in the morning and it is warm and welcoming. Finn’s understanding that clutter is the enemy and keeping all the plastic nonsense from his childhood will no more tell him who he was than knocking at the house next door and asking the nice strangers there to tell him who he used to be. For the calm of his almost empty bruise colored room now. For hope. And possibility. For a conversation yesterday that made me howl with laughter. And for pizza delivered straight to the door (It’s a lazy Mama night. Don’t tell anyone).

And finally tomorrow I will be…

Packing for my overnight stay with my bestest friends. Working on sending another lovely Brocantehome PDF in to the Salon Library before I have to get my gladrags on. Worrying that my non-existent wardrobe full of gladrags is much depleted since I got over-generous with the recycling bag too…

On my to-do list this month?

* Christmas. There’s just no getting away with it.
*  Watching The Crown on Netflix because rumor has it, it is a little bit wonderful?
*  Finding a pair of slippers that don’t threaten to end my life whenever I come down the stairs.
*  Choosing between a real and an artificial Christmas tree tall enough not to look daft in this high-ceilinged room.
*  And finding a tiny little decoration to hang on it to remember Mum. 

Happy Thanksgiving Housekeepers.x

shiningacademy

the-2

 

So in my head I had planned a teeny little pyjama clad Christmas Day for Finley and I, because Ste was going to be in work and the family will not descend until after the big day, and it was going to be lazy and cozy and though both Finn and I had expressed doubts about being by ourselves, secretly we were both a bit excited about eating when we want and being able to watch Doctor Who in peace and then lo and behold didn’t Ste just manage to get himself a rather excellent new job and before I knew it I was agreeing to cook dinner for his whole family and all our plans went out the window like so much frothy bathwater.

So yes. I’m doing Christmas and we are agreeing to all manner of invitations now night-time shifts aren’t ruling our life and over the weekend I got to feeling all kinds of muddled with school this and people visiting that and so I fiddled about and created a little Advent Planner for me and made sense of the whole month in a jiffy and then it struck me that you too might like to feel ever so slightly less demented to and so I turned my simple calendar in to a rather lovely, ever so useful and oh so simple Planner just for you.

There is a planning page for the five weeks of the Advent calendar, a daily planning page so you know where you need to be and what you should be cooking/doing/buying on any given day, an Advent brainstorm and some notes for the use of therein…

The Advent Planner is just $5 little dollars, cheaper still if you are a member of my Living Room and ABSOLUTELY FREE if you are a Salon member and fancy taking a hop and a skip over to the Salon Library…

Click here to buy my Advent Planner Now and within minutes it will be in your inbox. Happy Planning Housekeepers…

morning pages

Good morning. I hope this missive finds you cosy. 

I have been up since silly o’clock. Drinking too much coffee and trying to fix something that won’t be fixed. Frustration tempered by the bliss of working by candlelight and making Finley giggle when he discovers me somewhat drunk on caffeine. Some days hysteria rather sets in doesn’t it? Some days hysteria sets in and you find yourself dancing in the kitchen.

During the night there was a hailstorm, an auditory fright of relentless gunfire on the conservatory roof. So many ambulances went by: the blue lights illuminating a tangle of dreams during which most memorably I served Ste a rat pie and vomited in horror when I realised, before insisting that he wash it down with a pomegranate smoothie and calling the police to investigate what had possessed me.

And now I am here and it is so deliciously Wintery and snuggly I really rather wish I could invite you in. Serve you a slice of warm banana bread straight from the oven and share secrets over our teacups. I wish you could smell the amber candles burning on the tray on the coffee table. A brass pot laden with succulents glowing next to them. The blind over the window pulled down so I do not have to share my hygge with the men still nipping in and out of the outdoor loo in my garden, occasionally waving to me when I stand washing dishes in lavender bubbles or popping in to say that the fuses have blown and can they do something fiddly to my fuse box so they can carry on using our electricity to build the house in the back garden. (I do hop they aren’t powering a generator). Sitting on the wet step to remove dirty boots before they trudge in barefoot and spending so many hours just standing chatting over dirty mugs of tea that is quite astonishing that the house has gone up at all. I think I might miss them when they have gone.

I have the weekend to myself. Tonight Finley will be spirited away to Mark’s house and Ste went to work this morning and will not return until late tomorrow night. He will sleep and then return to work on Sunday morning until Monday evening. Thank heavens then for a promotion that means these endless exhausting shifts will be no more: for the blessing that a nine to five routine again will once again be. For the joy of a job that will challenge him.

But for now I am alone. My laptop my companion today and drinks with a friend planned for this evening. Tomorrow I am going to fashion Christmas for our plans have changed and suddenly it looks as though I might be in sole charge of creating the very first Christmas Day I have ever had to conjure up for a house full of guests: a rite of passage that strikes me at the grand old age of forty-four as proof that I am no longer the child someone else will look after. Though I am still blessed by Mums. My own Mum’s sister Barbie always at the end of the phone, Ste’s Mum a reassuring hug whenever I need it and Mark’s Mum, who rings me and though she has long been my shy, reassuring friend, tells me that now my Mum has gone, she is my Mum and makes me want to weep tears of relief for this unexpected kindness. I am blessed by Mums. And by those of you in my Living Room who know all my secrets and let me in the safety of our inner sanctum, spill out my sometimes ugly guts.

I quite like being alone. Watching the world go by. The girl with the mustard scarf she wears like a roll of carpet around her neck. The jazzy little geriatric in the leather pants who wanders up to the post office for a newspaper each morning pulling at what is left of his greying quiff. The Siamese cat in the little terraced house across the road. Entire days could be spent just watching other people spend theirs. But there is work to done. And as a reward for doing it, at the end of the day there will be a book so painful and elegant I cannot begin to describe the joy of it. Though joy is not quite the right word: but how else is one to describe a book that tells of unrequited love and loss in fine detail that both manages to get under your skin, create the subdued loneliness of another place and time right there in your bedroom, and have you looking forward to stepping in to that place though we anticipate only anguish when we get there? What is that? If not joy then what? The very act of reading – the experience of it, bewilders me.

I am hungry now. Caffeine burning a hole in my empty stomach, but hungry for I know not what. And isn’t that the most awful thing? To know not what we hunger for? Cheese on toast or freedom? A bowl of soup or a day lying in the arms of someone we love? I am hungry and rambling as I so often find myself doing in these morning pages. I am hungry and the kitchen floor could do with steaming. That pile of laundry carried up the stairs and tucked away. The problem that won’t be fixed tackled once again with determination. The steps up to the house sprinkled with salt so none of us kill ourselves on slippery hailstones. Maybe a trip to the shops for something that will make me feel beautiful tonight. And afternoon nap in orange blossom sheets?

I am hungry and wish someone else could tell me what for. I want to feel sated by life all over again. I want to read books like Winter for always.

wonder

And so it has begun. The season of the carrier bag. Those relentless days where one seems to do little else other than walk in to the house laden with this, that and indeed the lovely other in our efforts to create the Christmas of our dreams.

On the one hand I rather adore what becomes one long shopping opportunity and the other I feel every vein in my body tightening in dreaded anticipation of buying the wrong thing. Of forgetting to buy a little something for someone altogether. Of buying lots and lots of teeny little things I could surely create Christmas without.

Ready then for understatement of the year? I sometimes feel as though the commercialization of Christmas has gone a bit far.

Though I am not quite ready for a true Buy Nothing Christmas, some of me thinks that reigning things in a little bit might go some way to saving our bank accounts, waistlines, sanity and soul. Some of me thinks that if only we could hark back to a time where kids were happy with a tangerine and a handful of copper and grown-ups didn’t see Christmas as one long gin soaked endurance test then the festivities might just be a little easier on all of us…

Oh heck. Am I turning in to Scrooge’s lady friend? Probably not, for I am nothing if not a bundle of contrary emotion when it comes to Christmas. Take yesterday for instance when under the guise of helping her choose a unit for her lovely bathroom, I accompanied Kath to a furniture shop neither of us had previously visited.

And in we went. And with delighted eyes on stalks, and senses so very gently assaulted by quiet festive tunes that were just right and big fat candles emitting the scent of Christmas without rendering our noses outraged, we took mugs of milky coffee from polite men in checked shirts and wandered about in something akin to awe. Here was Christmas made perfect. Cabinets painted in milky colors describing a lifestyle we suddenly found ourselves desperate to step in to. Nothing too festive but on every surface a nod to the season. A tangle of seedpods. An amber scented candle. A pile of Welsh wool blankets. Rooms in which a Christmas without the garish truth of the festivities could be played out. Rooms in which we could hole up, sip hot chocolate laced with red wine (my two favorite things in one cosy bowl, oh heavens yes please!), pretend television didn’t exist and instead spend those precious few days of the holidays talking, and laughing, playing games and eating food cooked exquisitely well: feasts of saddleback ham and red onion marmalade, sloe gin and homemade truffles.

You see I want Christmas but I want a Christmas that doesn’t exhaust me. I want to choose one or two presents for those I love that are just right instead of the endless stuff of carrier bags I tend to offer people. I want to start Christmas the traditional way it has long begun for us with the Christingle service, watching Finn set his hair on fire while holding a candle and singing “Away In a Manger” (one year the Verger sprinted across the aisles to offer a wet flannel to be flung upon Finn’s singed brow!). I want the house twinkly without glitter and baubles. I want an afternoon around Kath’s kitchen table, just me, her and our suddenly teenage babbas exchanging gifts, a quiet Christmas Eve spent wrapping gifts with Ste and Christmas Day at home. Nowhere to be. No people to see. Just the pleasures of the day to be enjoyed without any pressure to entertain.

Though it does of course reek of the lure of commercialization in itself, I want a Christmas like the one in that furniture shop. A mood. An atmosphere. A sense of space in time that had Kath whisper “Oh Ali, I could cry” at which we both burst out laughing and so thoroughly and completely understood.

So much of what is heavenly about Christmas is lost to the very chaos of it and this year I want  to experience wonder all over again. While it may be hard to set aside the season of the carrier bag we can at least do our very best to focus on festive hygge, to reign in the relentless urge to throw money at that which cannot be bought and instead to indulge ourselves and those we hold most dear with the kind of joy that the bestest kind of memories are made of.  

housebeautiful

 

It is raining here today. The tapestry of leaves on the ground sodden and untidy. There were no teabags left in the copper pot on the counter. Only a trickle of the skimmed milk I favor lingering in the fridge. My feet have turned an unusual shade of purpley-blue because I have not yet made it back upstairs to tuck them in to pompom slippers. Finley came downstairs fully dressed! And Donald Trump is on stage: a confusing mix of humility and gloating shaping his now softly spoken words. That circle he makes with his fingers slightly less pronounced now he is no longer raging against a country that just yesterday seem unwilling to bend to his manic will.

Not so long ago I used to to tell my Mum that the world scared me. And she would say that the world had always been a scary place. That in her lifetime there had always been terrorism, the threat of war, crazy men, religious lunacy. That we have learn to live with a certain level of potential fright or else we might as well retreat under our patchwork quilts and whither away.

Today the women on my Facebook stream, my sister, my friends, my readers have declared themselves scared of Trump. For the world. For their children. There is a lot of pain. Disappointment. Confusion. And anger. There is also too much rage. Too much venom directed by those who consider themselves to be intellectually superior towards whom they consider to be “the great unwashed” – on whom they are firmly placing the blame, forgetting that among that majority there are Mothers scared for their babies too. The world feels broken and they want to have someone to blame so they look to those they consider less than them. An ugly truth if ever there was one.

I am no more political than I am religious. I find any kind of division between human beings to be distasteful. I am also stupid. I want people to be kind in an unkind world. I remain bewildered by angry men and warmongering women, and care only for the politics of my my own household. The politics of step-parenting. The politics of who takes the bins out. Who gets to choose what’s for dinner. And I am telling you this not because I want to publicly declare my own ignorance, but because I suppose, I want to appeal for calm among those of us who want to live a life less ordinary. Because I understand that politics is a necessary evil and we cannot always swing a vote the way we want it to swing. Because I want us all to feel safe within our own four walls despite what goes on beyond them.

We fear change don’t we? We understand career politicians but cannot (do not want to) begin to fathom a maverick, sexist business man standing at the head of one of the most important countries in the world. We confuse personality with politics and forget that in even the smallest of businesses liking or even respecting he in charge is not necessarily key to our own success. We cringe at the toupee, feel our skin crawl at the idea of hopping in to bed with such a vile creature, allow our own instinctive, female revulsion to dictate our feelings, wonder what the heckity-pie could be wrong with that wooden, soulless Melania woman and fail in the midst of our revulsion to understand that Trump will not stand alone. That there will be some good men and women standing behind him, guiding him, reigning in his arrogance, advising him and hopefully taping up his mouth. That a person does not get to be Donald Trump without possessing some nous. Some wisdom. Despite how utterly ludicrous he strikes us. How little we yet understand about who he will be as a President. For we do not know yet whether he will be the dictatorial oaf we imagine he will be. Or whether he truly will rule the world with one hand permanently hovering over the dreaded red button. Or more, whether we will all suffer the kind of catastrophe The Simpsons predicted should this have ever come to pass. We do not yet know and that is I suppose terrifying in itself.

We fear change even when we cannot prevent change itself and must instead, if not embrace it, then at least accept it. If only so that our children are not spooked by our own terror of something that has not yet come to pass. So that our little girls are not forced to see this as the vote for women’s oppression that it so blatantly is and are not immediately reduced by it. Our boys not kept awake at night by fear of war fueled by an impetuous, impulsive man. So that they are not weeping tears for something that has no impact on what we decide to pack in their lunchboxes today. We must therefore refuse to wrap their sandwiches in anxiety. Keep appalled conversation to a minimum in front of them. So that they do not sense our fear and are instead reassured that all remains well. For that it does. For today at least, for our children all remains well. That is our job and it remains our job whoever ends up living in the White House – to make our children feel safe despite whoever walks the long corridors of power.

It could have course have been different. We could have had a woman I have certainly never related to standing in Trump’s place and perhaps we would have rejoiced anyway for it may have seemed like a triumph for sanity. For more of the same. For the safety of better the devil we know. But we haven’t. Something has happened this morning none of us could have predicted and all the wringing of our collective hands will not, in the immediate future, make any difference. We have to be at peace with that for now. Or else we allow something we cannot immediately change to trouble our own four walls. To bring a sense of dis-harmony indoors at a time when we would be better served strengthening the minds of our little ones so that the politics of the future does not stink quite so badly.

Here, there are no teabags and I am sipping coffee instead: my taste buds already recovering from the shock of Booth’s Italian Blend where there should have only been Tetleys. Finley is joking about all the builders in the world lining up for a lifetimes work building Trump’s Godforsaken wall and calling the house in our garden New Mexico as the joiner finally staples up the fence between us and them. Dad is in the shower and Ste, nonplussed by the whole affair, preparing a Powerpoint presentation for an interview.

And I am here. Typing out words that may make no sense to me in the future when we better understand the impact Trump will have on all our tomorrows. Tutting at the fingerprints on the glass on the doors into the conservatory and about to splash my way down to the crazy Post Office for a pint of skimmed. Refusing to be scared.

the-new-salon

So you know how sometimes I fall off the blogging bandwagon and sometimes its because life is in the way and other times it is because I am entertaining the black dog and more often it is because I am being a floral- pinnied little worker minion busying away behind the scenes here at BrocanteHome? Recently has been one of those times.

You see so many of you have told me that you can’t work BrocanteHome: that some of it is in fact so mystifying as to surely be broken. That you can’t work out where the downloads you have bought have vanished to, you can’t find your account page, and you simply cannot even begin to navigate the Salon and the Living Room.

Now though I come from the rather cosy school of If It Ain’t Broke Don’t Fix It, I do understand that sometimes I can be creating complex muddly systems I thoroughly understand because I invented them, but that you are thoroughly bewildered by and that if this is the case then whether I like it not the system is broken and I need to get on with fixing it. Preferably asap!

And so m’dears that is exactly what I’m doing. My lovely Salon, Living Room, courses and Store are all headed under one roof: The BrocanteHome School of Life, where eventually you will have just one account page with access to everything you have ever bought or downloaded from BrocanteHome and with my gorgeous members-only community organised in to step-by-step blocks you will find oh so very easy to access on the road to a life less ordinary.

the-new-salon2

This is a huuuuge undertaking and it is costly in terms of both time and finance –which is why you haven’t seen much of me recently. Because although I would dearly love to be back to blogging the way I used to blog, my community has to take priority so you feel less confused by me and my warren like tunnel of ideas and inspiration!

The School of Life will be released in three stages: The Salon will open in the next ten days, (perfectly timed for the release of The Festive House and 100 Scrumptious Things To Do For Christmas), the Living Room will go live two weeks after that and the store will be imported after Christmas and in the meantime will continue to live where it is now.

Phew! All this and Christmas to plan? Too true… but as Ste will be working and my family down South, Finn and I will be spending our very first, cosy Christmas alone and both of us are almost giddy with excitement at the very idea!

Talk soon Lovely Housekeepers.x

100-scrumptious-things-to-dobefore-christmas

P.S: 100 Scrumptious Things To Do For Christmas is available at a special pre-release price of $12.00 and will be $20.00 after launch on or after November 25th.