The House at Porter Street

On Mother's Day we went for lunch at Min's and lo! on the way to the bathroom, I experienced an epiphany of biblical proportions.

I've puzzled and pondered about how to make my bedroom work, and now I have the solution by wholly and completely pilfering the look from Min's own boudoir.


In case you can't see from my elevation, there will be four Ikea Billy bookcases behind my bed.  The facing wall will be pictures.  On the left is the wardrobe and floating shelves. And on the right is the window overlooking the soon to be culled yetis.

We've secured the services of "Out on a Limb" to free us of the tyranny of the strangling garden.  They'll be here on 17 May, for a full day, to do their worst.


It has been flagged with us, by the five parties we had through to quote on the garden, that we're going to have a dickens of a time getting rid of the yukkas lining the pool.

Apparently there's not enough room to get the stump grinder down the gap between pool and boundary fence, so we're preparing for a long running war using poison.  Not even pouring concrete on the stumps would stop their vigorous growth, as I'm told they'll just bust through.  It's crackers.  What fool would put aggressive, unstoppable, prickly weeds along a narrow path beside a pool?


The conundrums keep rolling at the House at Porter Street.