In my room

The bedroom.

When you’re growing up your bedroom is your sanctuary. It’s where you play, where you do your homework, where you tell your little sister to piss off because she’s just there being annoying when you’re trying to be cool with your mates. It’s where the walls start off plain (or with Woofit wallpaper in my case) and then evolve through Care Bears and rainbows to Take That and then, almost overnight, you can’t see the walls through posters of Nirvana, Pulp and Beck until your A0 sized X-Files poster that cost £3.99 in Virgin Megastores on the weekend after your 14th birthday falls down and rips a hole in Mulder’s face (I cried when this happened) and so you fill the space with photos from disposable cameras of your friends and cat. Mostly the cat.

When you get an entire place of your own you don’t need your bedroom as a retreat. You have a whole home with lots of rooms to spread all your random crap around, and your bedroom becomes just that – the room with your bed in it. The place you spend a lot of time in, but doing anything special, just sleeping (or not, thanks to my neighbours who seemed to be having a pretty good time last night. I didn’t need to hear that.)

I was lying in bed the other morning, feeling very pleased that I didn’t have to go to work because it was Saturday, and started thinking about our bedroom. None of the furniture in it belongs to us (it’s a rental) so in order to personalise it we need “things”. We haven’t really put any things in the bedroom. We’ve got a big vintage granny blanket on the bed and a crocheted rug on the floor, and a mirror from my nan’s house on the wall but that’s it. No falling down X-Files poster, no fairy lights (I will remedy this), not even any pictures on the wall. I’ve got nice stripy bedding on at the moment (BHS) but otherwise there’s no personalisation to the room at all. Not even a radio. I should put a radio in there. It’s easier to wake up to a radio. I’ll get a radio.

I’d love our room to look like this, including cat:

Dream bedroom

I doubt Ant would like that room though. That’s the other thing about not having just your own room – you have to consider the person who shares the room with you! Not that I’d have everything pink but still! Also think I need some plants in there. I’ll have to do cuttings from Charlie, but I don’t want to kill him accidentally. I’ll practice on Charles II who lives on the fridge. He’s freaky already.

Lots of songs about rooms, but naturally I’ve picked Dinosaur Pile-Up to end this post.


in which Bethy does a picture post

I’m tired and cold. I’ll just do some pictures with a brief run down of the day…

Evil psycho cat Princess actually let me touch her – the magic of a slice of ham – but then went nuts again and had a go at me. Still, it’s progress.

The WI were holding a craft fayre in Cowbridge today so I went along to help the girls from my group. Not that much help was needed – it was dead! It wasn’t advertised, or signposted well, and we were stuck in the corner at the back. We did sell all the Rocky Roads and Brownies though, so all was not lost. It was nice to meet some other groups too and to see how they deal with fayres as this was our first one. Looking forward to next time.image

I had a wander around Happy Days, which is a wonderful vintage and artisan market in Cowbridge.image

This little guy was very long, and I’m pretty sure he had more legs than a creature with one head should have had!image

I’m not sure I agree with selling pinecones for £1 a bag when they’ve obviously been skanked from the local park. If you’ve made pot pourri or something with them then that’s different, otherwise you’ve just nicked a family of squirrels’ Christmas dinner!image


There’s no Starbucks in Cowbridge, so I got a Praline Latte from Costa. Pretty cups, but they’re no Toffee Nut in a red cup!image

in which Bethy apologises for being a terrible blogger

yeah yeah I know it’s February. I apparently had nothing to say throughout the entire month of January. Indeed I can’t think of anything memorable.

Except for one thing.

I went to Jacobs Antiques for their vintage market thing with Sinead.  We found a giant mobile phone…

We found a7-Up pinball machine…

and we found Gail who was selling her pretty pretty things (and drinking tea. It was cold on that top floor!)

I bought this lovely birdie. He’s called Herman.

Please check out Gail’s shop. You’ll be supporting a local independent business, and supporting a friend in making a living doing something that she loves. One day I’ll be brave enough to pack in the rat-race and do this too. One day.

Also at the fair was a lovely excitable lady who goes by the name of Viva Misadventure. She managed to get Cherry and I to have a little go at burlesque dancing AND WE LOVED IT. I loved it so much in fact that I went for a taster class today, continued to love it and am going to take a six week course in order to create my new alter-ego – Miss NooNoo La Roux! Yes. I don’t believe it either. Pretty sure that work wont like it should they find out, but I don’t like them so there. As long I don’t start twirling tassels at my desk I see no issue. Let’s face it – millions of people saw me wearing only pants on Channel 4 a few years ago and no one said a word back then, nipples and all! Seriously though, I had a lot of fun at the class today. I especially liked that there were ladies of all ages there, I wont lie but I was a bit worried that there’d be a load of gorgeous skinny blonde 18 year olds but we were all real women! The women that you just walk past on a daily basis with no clue that they could have a wardrobe full of frilly knickers, long satin gloves and nipple tassels! Especially in the Garden Village. I dread to think what my Grandma would say… 🙂

in which Bethy goes gallivanting off to London and comes back all depressed

Yeah, it happens every damn time.  I go to London, have a fantastic time with fantastic people in fantastic places doing fantastic things and then when I get home everything is still uber-lame (apart from The Boy and the Orange Ones, of course).

I did have a fab weekend though. We went to the Vintage Festival on the Southbank, which was amazing. I wish I had a van and a load of cash, I would have done so much damage and made my home so awesome. We only went to the free market, but it sounded like the paid areas in the festival hall were fantastic! According to Twitter Johnny Depp and Florence (without the machine) were at the festival. I didn’t see any famous people, but Lou and Stu saw Nicki Grahame (apparently she’s a celebrity, something to do with Big Brother or some similar awful programme). Maybe next year. Here’s some sneaky peeks…

More photos on my Flickr.

London was warm and beautiful this weekend. Actually it was boiling. Blue sky and sunshine. I ate a lot of chicken. I ate chicken every meal. Also cake. I ate cake. Specifically my beloved Red Velvet cake from Hummingbird Bakery. Mmmm om nom nom nom nom, and it came in a little takeaway box! Amazeballs!

We walked miles, and went on many trains (much to my delight). I love trains. I did much crochet on the trains. I was very tempted to yarnbomb the pull-down table on my train but remembered that I only had my necessary wool and could not possibly spare any for woolly guerilla artwork! I did teach Lou how to crochet though, which means that my blanket is missing a pink square.

I did not see any cats in London, not properly anyway. There was one cat on Sunday morning walking up Lou’s street but it ignored my cries for attention. London cats are rude! It was nice to see my Orange Ones when I got home.

I’m going back to London at the beginning of September, taking The Boy for his birthday. We will get Oyster cards. How fun! I will also take a different bag. One that will not break my shoulders. Oh Cath Kidston why do you not do a precious pretty rucksack, eh?!