A peaceful week with nothing earth-shattering to report, but sometimes those are the nice ones. I took Booty to the vet on Thursday for her regular review of medication (an anti-inflammatory and a painkiller) which she takes for her arthritis. Arthritis is not curable so we are in a programme of managing the condition and making sure she has the best quality pain relief. We've had a few discussions with the vet about the next steps and fortunately she is still at the bottom so to speak of the pain relief ladder. Some of the more heavy duty meds have potential side effects if taken long term, but it's important to remember that she is probably about 11 - put bluntly, she won't be here in ten years time, so that's much less important to us than ensuring a good quality of life at the moment. Fortunately she is in excellent condition at present - her weight is spot on and she is not suffering from muscle wastage on the affected shoulder which is something we are watching like hawks to avoid. As normal, she was very miserable when inside the vet, before he had even touched her, which is both funny and endearing, particularly as the vet is always very gentle and expert with her. I strongly suspect that like many dogs, the smell of the vets' is a deterrent.

In other dog related news, we've discovered that Andy and Boola are distantly related - they are first cousins, once removed - I think. I get terribly confused when talking about layers in a family tree - for instance, Jonathan whose blog is recommended on the sidebar is in fact my father's cousin, even though he is only just older than me which makes him (I think) my first cousin once removed but how that differs from a second cousin is a bit hazy in my mind. If you are one of those amazing people who understands this, please don't try to explain it to me - I strongly suspect it would make my brain explode. Anyway back to the dogs, put simply, Boola's grandsire is Andy's great-grandsire. There are also more distant and complicated shared lines on the maternal line, but that's definately one for the genealogists.

Over the weekend, we've been busy in the garden. We went to Greenmoor nurseries to pick up lots of nice bedding plants for the hanging baskets and pots. These are now all planted up and looking great, plus Andrew has been busy today renewing the grout between the slabs on the paved area round the pond. We've been careful to leave some gaps as we're gradually getting self seeded alchemilla colonising some of the gaps and we like this.

We've also been on a voyage of discovery with our tadpoles - let me explain. Our garden is happily a haven for frogs and toads of all sizes and descriptions, and we do occasionally see newts in the pond too although I am not sure what species they are. During the spring the pond became a mass of frog spawn and we also saw lots of frogs doing the baby dance in the pond, as well as hearing them sing their songs of amphibian love every night. Fast forward, and the pond is now full of a huge quantity of adorable wrigglers - all rapidly growing, and now developing tiny back legs - I had assumed these were frog tadpoles. Now it seems I was wrong. Andrew spotted that as well as the clusters of black comma-like tadpoles, there were also some that were larger, greyer and a different shape. I spent some time doing some research on the net yesterday and it seems that the clusters are in fact toad tadpoles ("toadpoles") while the greyer, larger ones are the frogs. Toadspawn is laid in strings in deeper water so I would not have seen it when it was laid.

This afternoon, after making a cup of tea for Andrew while he was grouting, I went and laid down on the slabs and began watching the poles more closely. This is one of those magical things that I have enjoyed since childhood - settling down to watch a piece of the natural world closely and with concentration. When you do this something very wonderful happens. To begin with, you just see the obvious things, and you wait, and keep looking. After a period of time in concentrated waiting and attention, suddenly a small miracle happens. The whatever-it-is - a tadpole, a plant, a bird, a badger suddenly leaps into your focus and now you can see them clearly, and everywhere. They have crossed from the background to the foreground of your attention. This attentive waiting and watching, in a state of concentration but also deeply peaceful, is one of the most profound and lovely conditions I know - it of course has huge similarities with the state of of prayer, which is also often a condition of attentive waiting. It saddens me greatly that many people probably never experience this, if they have not been taught to enjoy and appreciate wildlife as children and more particularly the experience of watchful waiting - whether it is waiting for a badger cub to emerge from a sett to play at dusk or finding a particular type of wild flower in a certain habitat, or even looking for fossils on a Dorset beach.

Well, firstly this is my 300th post on this blog, so I'd like to celebrate by raising a glass to you all, dear readers. For some, (Jonathan) it will be a dirty martini, for others an iced tea - whatever your tipple, thank you for reading. And, whoever the annoying anonymous person is, I wish to heaven you would send me an email and give me a blasted clue as to who you are. Thinking about my readership, I can honestly say it is international and I've become friends with people in some surprising places, that even feature in song titles. Happily, the numbers from Cardiff Council have declined considerably although there appears to be a hard core of about 15 of you who are still reading - most annoyingly, when you should be getting on with some constructive work. Consider yourselves chastised.

One of my favourite bloggers, the Calico Quilter, recently wrote about her home: this was prompted in part by exciting adventures with her neighbourhood squirrels. They suddenly developed a kamikaze mindset and decided to bring power cuts to the neighbourhood by chewing through live high voltage cables. You have to admit those little squeakers have STYLE - if you're gonna go, go out big. Cue James Cagney in "White Heat" moment for the squirrel - shouting "Look at me, Ma, top of the world!" before exploding in flames. Anyway, I tell you this partly to show that quilting blogs are often much more exciting than you would first think and secondly to respond to something that was posted by the CQ quite recently. CQ posted some pics of her house and neighbourhood, and some of the local Council workers who were doing some tree works. She invited other readers to join in and post some pics of their own homes. So, with no further ado, a bit about Woodhouse Towers.

We bought the house as a new build from Persimmon, the developers in 2005. We had decided to go for a new build (or very nearly) as at that time I had just come through cancer and had gone back to work full time so neither of us wanted to be spending precious time on home repairs and maintenance. Neither of us is particularly DIY minded. What attracted us to this estate and the house was that the houses were not as closely packed together as is often the case in modern estates, and this house has a reasonable sized garden, again particularly for a new home. We saw lots of developments when we were house hunting where the house was fine, but set into a tiny little plot. Even though we weren't then greyhound owners both of us love gardening so we wanted to maximise the space available, and this house seemed to do that.

Inside the house, I love the fact it is so bright and airy and also very warm. When single, I lived in a succession of Victorian flats, and although there is much to be said for sash windows as an architectural feature, in the winter they are drafty, freezing and rattly. Downstairs, we've got a big kitchen with utility room (a feature that was on my shopping list, and I am grateful for it), a spacious dining room where we can comfortably seat eight or squeeze in a few more if we want to be cosy, a living room and a downstairs loo/cloakroom. From the hall, which is a decent size, you go up the stairs, passing a large window on the turn of the stairs, to the first floor where there are four bedrooms, master with en-suite, plus a "family" bathroom. One of the many good things about having the en-suite is that when we have guests, they can have sole usage of the main bathroom, thus avoiding worries about queues and so on. Since moving in, we've fitted a shower into the main bathroom, above the bath and tiled/decorated it. The house was painted throughout by the developer in a bog standard magnolia when we purchased, so we have been able to take our time in decorating. Before moving in, the living room and dining room were done, along with our bedroom and the main guest bedroom. Since then, we've also decorated the third bedroom (our study/craft room), the main bath, and the downstairs cloakroom. Remaining - the hall/landing, the kitchen, utility room and fourth bedroom. The other main change we instigated was to fit wooden flooring on the ground floor, when we decided to adopt a greyhound (looking back fondly, we imagined we would have only one...). The kitchen has floor tiles in a soft grey/cream colour, but elsewhere we have a very pleasant honey coloured wooden floor, which fortunately is easy to clean.

The house has a detached garage, on a shared driveway with our next door neighbours, with sufficient room for two cars and our growing collection of wheelie bins. From the side of the garage, there is a door to the back garden, which we don't tend to use much, except when bringing in heavy items to the garden such as large pots or bags of compost. However it was a godsend when we were doing all the landscaping/planting in the garden.

Under the eaves at the front of the house are the house martens, tucked into their little mud nest and making the most lovely sounds, rather like a digital ringtone. I've posted a picture of their home, along with the front of the house, our greyhound hanging basket bracket, and the new post box which regular readers will recall was fitted after Andy decided to start eating paint. If I get sufficient interest, I'd be happy to show some pics of the garden and how we went from the bare plot to the current setup. Readers, over to you. Let me have your views. Look at this way, at least it's a change from greyhounds. And, why not show some pics of where you live?

Yesterday the postman brought what is becoming an increasingly familiar site, a USPS envelope. In our small way, we are an example of the global marketplace created by the internet. I now regularly buy a number of items over the net from the USA, including OPI nail varnish, greyhound gifts, greyhound coats and of course greyhound collars. We've found two particularly good collar companies, and when Boola became a permanent member of our family, we knew that we would want to kit him out with his own coats, plus a martingale collar and lead. Being such a stunning blonde boy, we took some time to choose, and eventually selected a collar and lead from Two Hounds design - their website is at http://www.2houndsdesign.com/.

The collar we selected after a lot of thinking was this one - http://www.2houndsdesign.com/Asian-Teal-Vines-pr-456.html and as suggested we went for a red velvet lead to go with it. We've selected a martingale collar - these are perfect for greyhounds, being comfortable and also working well with the long, slender neck and small head. Normal dog collars can be easily reversed out of by greyhounds, and any collar that is too narrow can be dangerous when they take off at high speed, as the forces are concentrated into a small area which can be lethal.

So, today, Boola officially took off his foster collar ( a perfectly serviceable leather hound collar) and put on his beautiful new one, covered in the finest Asian silk, and lined in red satin. I've attached some pictures of him wearing it, and he looks even more gorgeous than he did before. I'll post some pics soon of him with his new lead when we are out for a walk. The next job will be to buy some coats for him that will do his collar justice. We will be looking for an waterproof outdoor coat with warm lining for winter, a waterproof coat with mesh lining for wet days in spring/summer, and an indoor night coat/pyjamas for cold winter nights. In the fullness of time, I'd also consider getting all three dogs a non waterproof but extra warm coat for outdoor days when it is bitterly cold but not raining.

Last week seemed to be one of those weeks when Andrew was away quite a bit. For nearly a year now, his main clients have been in London (a central London borough) and as well, he makes regular trips up to Birmingham for his company meetings and training days. Both of these are easily accessible by train from Cardiff, both being usually about 2 hours away, although Andrew's views on the reliability of First Great Western are pretty unprintable. I thought I would paint a picture of our routine when he travels, which is a bit different to the days when he is working from home. Usually, he catches the 6.55 train, which means that we are up around 6, have a coffee (I refuse to do anything without this!), throw on some clothes and bundle myself and the dogs into the car, with Andrew looking very smart in his suit, and carrying laptop bag plus little wheelie case for overnighters. We aim to leave the house about 6.25 and get into the railway station car park around 6.45 - at that time of the morning, the roads are very quiet. We are usually in the car park at about the same time that the local charities are doing their morning run of hot drinks and breakfast for the rough sleepers, from the back of a van. I find this very sobering and usually have a brief moment of thankfulness that we have a home and stable life. Andrew then says goodbye to us all and trundles off to the station to get ticket, coffee, paper and board the train.

I take over the driving seat of the car. Like most married couples, I immediately have to re-arrange the seat (being a shortarse) and put the car in neutral - he always leaves it in gear, which drives me nuts. Radio 4 on, to enjoy the Today programme, and the car swings round to the back of the station (if we're lucky, inhaling lungfuls of the wonderful smell of the mash from Brain's Brewery, which is very nearby) and then down Dumballs Road. Invariably, I am horrified at the amount of litter on Dumballs Road - the street is awash with fast food wrappers, cans and general mess - awful. I harrumph down to the bay and head for Clarence Embankment, near the old Hamadryad hospital. Swinging round, I park the car by the entrance to the park. The dogs always know where we are and get excited. I get them out carefully, as the area is awash with cats which leads to even more excitement and a great deal of squeaking and woofing, which is acutely embarrassing so early in the morning when there are people still in bed nearby. Having assembled the three dogs, put muzzles on two of them, gathered poo bags, coat or cardigan depending on weather, locked the car and checked my phone, we're off. Before we even enter the park, we can usually hear the thump and splash of the rowers on the river, sometimes the shouting of the cox if a big group is out. We enjoy our walk in the park - usually it is quiet, with a few joggers in the spring and summer plus a regular who I always smile at who does Tai Chi in a nice spot overlooking the river. If there are no other dogs about I cautiously leat Boola off the lead - he loves sniffing about by the river and running round in big circles on the grass. Usually, there are lots of birds to look at, both on the river and in the trees/grass of the park itself. A swan is nesting there at the moment, which is exciting, and I love seeing the sky fill with big flocks of starlings or gulls, coming in to feed. Recently I even saw an oystercatcher pottering about. In the distance I can see the golden roof of the Millennium Centre, glittering in the early morning sun, or bronze if it is dull. Our walk is lovely, a great way to start the day, with an opportunity to look at nature and the river, and some fabulous buildings.

Then it's back to the car, again on cat alert, dogs in, muzzles off, coat off, radio on, and we cruise back down Lloyd George Avenue - by now it's at least 7.30 or later, so there are people now driving about to get to work. I hit the bay road and head back past the steel works, usually making good time as I am going against the main flow of the traffic. On the way back I invariably call in to Tesco at around 7.50 - I pick up a paper, and usually items such as bread or other groceries. I notice the Cleansing vehicles parked outside the supermarket - it seems to have become a popular location for breakfast as well as for the Highways lorries too. I can't blame them - the Tesco restaurant does a highly competitive cooked breakfast which is probably served faster and is likely to taste better and be cheaper than the one in the canteen at the depot. I'm sure if the Ikea store were open earlier, that would also be popular as they too do an excellent value breakfast. With a couple of items to purchase, I usually have to do those awful self service swipe tills - Tesco has a bizarre policy of not opening any "real" checkouts until 8 am, no matter how busy. I am a sucker for getting treats for the dogs, some times it's a box of chicken livers, which I lightly saute with garlic for them, or sometimes some cooked chicken pieces for them which they enjoy as snacks during the day. Then back into the car, and home, avoiding all the hideous pot holes. Once back at the house, dogs and shopping are unloaded, shoes off, leads off, and breakfast is served to the pack. Once the dogs are sorted, including various tablets, supplements etc. I then sort out my own breakfast and another coffee, and settle down with the paper while I eat. At this point, the assorted hounds will usually check that the mistress is not going to share hers and once this is confirmed, will assume positions of deep torpor around the place. Generally, I can hear snoring after a few moments while they catch up with their powernapping. Invariably, I'll get a call from Andrew about 9, usually just before or just after he has arrived at his destination, to update me on journey times, check in and find out what adventures we had on our walk (did Booty argue with a swan? Did Boola chase a rabbit? Did Andy find a squirrel up a tree?) An eye will be opened at the sound of the phone disturbing the sacred greyhound slumber but generally they go back to sleep almost instantly. Depending on the coffee's impact, I will sometimes have a go at the cryptic crossword (much swearing and head scratching will ensue) but by 9.30 this part of the day is over and I am progressing to my domestic programme at full speed.

So, there you have a fairly detailed look at our morning when we take Andrew to the station, this is usually two or sometimes three times a week, depending on his schedule. Over the weekend, we did another nice walk up at the Forestry Commission that I wrote about recently being covered with wood anemones. Now it is utterly carpeted with bluebells. For most of the walk, we were in glorious silence with just the wonderful birdsong, and the smell and sight of bluebells all round us - difficult to describe except to say it was glorious and I loved the colours - that intense purply blue fading away to darkness across the glades, while above the beech leaves were a glorious acid green with dappled sunlight breaking through -one of those occasions when it is immensely frustrating not to be an artist, and to long to capture the beauty of the colours and the location. We heard an owl, woodpeckers, saw tree-creepers and many smaller birds such as great tits in the trees. Although it is gloriously peaceful, we don't let the dogs off as there is a huge quarry nearby and I can just imagine an excited greyhound chasing a rabbit and not noticing the absence of footing until it was too late.... Back home to home-made bread in bacon sandwiches and lots of coffee over the leisurely weekend paper.

Yesterday, we decided to give at least one dog a bath. We had hoped to start with Andy, but this proved to be a bit tricky. Firstly, he had sussed what we were planning as soon as he saw towels going in to the main bathroom and he disappeared downstairs. Getting him back upstairs was practically impossible, then once he was in the bathroom, any attempt to get near him to lift him into the bathtub met with him trying to hide in the corner behind my legs, and resisting every attempt to pick him up. Bear in mind that he is a very big greyhound and weighs around 30kg - eventually the attempt became too traumatic for all concerned and he fled downstairs with his dignity and his aroma intact. Next was Booty, who was considerably easier all round, being smaller, lighter and although not keen on the bath, will stand there looking miserable with her tail clamped between her legs while you shampoo her. I took some pics of her as she came out which are attached. While she dries, her collar remains off and she looks curiously naked without it.

Unlike the people in some parts of the UK, we had no problem at all when we went to vote. As Andrew was off to London, we were at the polling station just after seven. There was a brisk throughput of people which was very encouraging. I still feel very privileged when I vote. Democracy and an open, free vote are precious things that many people all over the world do not currently enjoy and the situation is even worse for women. One of the things that I feel very encouraged by is the gradual "normalisation" of women in politics. It is no longer remarkable to see female candidates - although there is still some way to go to ensure better female representation at the very top levels. When I think back to the 1980s and the appalling hostility to women politicians then, not just Margaret Thatcher, I shudder.

Of course we are now in a very peculiar situation waiting for the negotiations to bear fruit, that may lead to a new government. It's odd to think that even though one party has the largest number of seats and votes, they are not occupying Downing Street and it looks as though Gordon Brown could be with us for some time to come - which prospect does not fill me with joy. It seems possible or even likely that Labour may change their leader - but if they then stay in power, we could be in a position where we will have had two successive General Elections where Labour have fought campaigns then changed leaders - not entirely fair on voters I feel. Anyway I think there is a lot more to come in this particular saga. All I will conclude is to say that if this is a foretaste of PR, count me out. I loathe the idea of tiny parties like Plaid Cymru or the SNP effectively holding the larger ones to ransom when they have so little political mandate. We are already seeing some odd decision making in Wales as a result of the Labour/Plaid Cymru administration - I'd hate to see this in the larger and more important context of Westminster.

Anyway, on Saturday, we travelled over to Somerset for a weekend with Andrew's parents. Andrew went to horticultural college when he was 18, at Cannington, not far from where his parents live. The college was having a Wisteria Weekend so we attended with Andrew's mum. To all our surprise and delight, one of the lecturers from when Andrew was a student was present, and remembered Andrew very well, so it was lovely for them to have a chat and catch up on news. We enjoyed looking round the beautiful old walled gardens and the huge glass houses which each show representative plants from a range of habitats, such as arid (lots of cacti) and tropical (masses of jungly rainforest things). There were also stalls selling plants (I bought a sweet cicely for the herb bed), the WI were selling cakes and eggs and jam, plus there were school demonstrations of garden ideas. Unfortunately, although dry, it was bitterly cold and not the weather for either the ice cream stall or sitting around decoratively. I had hoped earlier in the week to be swanning around in sandals and had even bought some bronzer for my legs in the expectation I'd be wafting in a floral skirt. Instead I was very grateful of my mac and scarf and thick opaque tights! Rita was wearing her woolly gloves and Andrew was wrapped up in his wet weather jacket from Rohan plus layers of fleece. I attach some pics.

After we'd finished, we strolled back to the car via the main campus of the college which teaches what are now called Land Based Studies so this includes things like Animal Husbandry, Agriculture, Dog Grooming, various equine courses and so on. It was interesting to see where Andrew had studied and he was able to point out many features to us as we walked. Back to the car and then back to the house to defrost - I was really chilled after being out in the cold wind.

After a lovely dinner on Saturday night (Andrew not drinking on the eve of a race), on Sunday he raced in the Bristol 10K. I stayed at his parents to wrangle the woofs so he departed solo, which is unusual as of course I normally accompany him to support and cheer. He did an excellent time, sub 0.48 and was back in time for a well-earned lunch. Unfortunately while he was away, Andy disgraced himself by pinching nearly a full half pound of butter that was on the butter dish with a butter knife in the kitchen. Note for American readers - in the UK, butter is traditionally sold in half pound pats. Since going metric, the pack size has been altered slightly to 250g but like many people I still think in imperial terms and can estimate and cut by eye quantities such as 1 oz, 2oz and so on.

Fortunately, Andrew's parents saw the funny side of the theft and had a spare packet of butter, so all was not lost. Butter and cheese are highly sought after by Andy and indeed most greyhounds although we never give them milk. And then, shortly after lunch, we headed back home and spent a quiet evening watching "Lewis" and enjoying the digestive effects of Andy's theft as the air slowly filled with greyhound generated methane......

Well, what a week it's been. On Thursday afternoon, my friend Margaret arrived from West Wales. We got to know each other last year on a GRW charity stall, and it turned out that we were both interested in greyhounds, quilting and were cancer survivors. We got to chatting and have kept in touch ever since. Another link is that Margaret was the person who collected Boola from the home he was living in before being taken into the care of the charity, and so she has always had a special interest in him.

I have mentioned previously that Busy Bees were organising a trip to London for the Quilts exhibition at the V & A, so thought of Margaret and asked her if she would like to come. She gladly agreed and so on Thursday she came up to us to spend the night before we set off on our adventure. We had a lovely evening, chatting away about all sorts of things, and Margaret was very happy to see Boola again, as well as meeting the other two hounds. She also brought me the most wonderful little gift - a Moda tin, with a charm pack, and a pattern for a mini quilt, wrapped up in a complementary fat quarter, and tied with pretty ribbon. Such a lovely gift.

The following morning, we got over to Tredegar House to meet the coach. The weather was cool and dull, which was great actually. I hate very hot weather for travelling or sightseeing, so it was perfect. The coach was very comfortable and we sped up the M4 to the museum, being dropped literally by the front door. We had timed tickets for the exhibition, so had time for lunch in the museum restaurant beforehand then met up with our group under the most magnificent Chihuly glass chandelier in the atrium (see pic attached I found on the net). I was fortunate enough to see another Chihuly piece some years ago at Kew Gardens (see pic attached) and love his use of colour and the wonderful organic forms of the blown glass.

The exhibition was everything I had hoped for and more. Understandably, because of the age of many of the textiles, light levels were very low, but in general I was impressed with the way things had been presented to allow for close inspection. The exhibits were wonderful, being inspiring, beautiful, moving and occasionally very funny. Even if you are not a quilter yourself, this exhibition has much interest, in terms of interior and domestic history, as well as broader social trends such as Victorian temperance or the prevalence of quilting in mining areas such as Wales, as well as a fascinating section from the Second World War. After emerging blinking like moles into the light, we gladly hit the shop as I knew they were selling a special range of limited edition prints in partnership with Liberty of replicas from the exhibition of 18th century designs. I have bought some half metres of fabric to add to my stash. Emerging finally from the museum, we sat in the sunshine for a while to gather our thoughts, then, with Margaret's agreement, hopped in a taxi for a trip over to Bloomsbury. Margaret had not been to London for some years - she has lived all over the world so was delighted that the journey included lots of the obligatory sights, including Buckingham Palace. Anyway, on arrival at our destination, we hopped out and entered the delights of http://www.bladerubber.co.uk/ - a specialist and very intriguing rubber stamp shop just round the corner from the British Museum. I was in seventh heaven - the range of stamps was gorgeous with lots of quirky and off beat ones that were most intriguing. Eventually I made my purchases and reluctantly left - the shop has a great range of regular workshops and so on, which would be wonderful if I lived a little nearer to London. Then we strolled round the corner and had a leisurely and much needed coffee in Starbucks before finally hopping in another cab and heading back to the V & A. We just had time for me to press my nose against some of the lovely shops there - Skandium is a shrine to Scandinavian design and then we lusted after the kitchenware in Divertimenti, although both of us were simultaneously appalled and amused at a very fancy kitchen range in the window for a mere £37,000. Almost next door was Smallbones, who of course would build you a kitchen fit for such an expensive range and again it was great to have a thoroughly aspirational gawp - fortunately, by this time, all the shops were firmly closed. Then back on the bus and home - met by Andrew when we finally disembarked, stiff, tired and very happy.

On Saturday morning, we took Margaret back to Tredegar House. I attach some pics of her with Boola - then Andrew took the dogs for their walk while I showed Margaret the house and buildings before making a happy pilgrimage to Busy Bees for Margaret to have a good browse. She was delighted and managed to find some gorgeous fabric for a pretty elephant quilt,as well as some cat fabric (she has two). Eventually, Andrew came back with the hounds and we all drifted back to the cars, for Margaret to head back home down the motorway. It had been a very happy and successful trip.

Today, in the best traditions of British bank holidays it has been cold, wet and blustery. Also firmly in this tradition, we visited B & Q for a pot of paint, as Andrew will be painting the downstairs loo. When we moved into the house, as it was a new build, the developer had coated all the walls with a bog standard magnolia - quite inoffensive if dull, but at least we didn't feel under any pressure to immediately decorate every surface. So far, the living room and dining room downstairs have been painted and upstairs,we've decorated the main bathroom and three of the four bedrooms but have yet to do the smallest bedroom or the ensuite bathroom. For a while, I've been keen to decorate some of the untouched rooms, so we decided the downstairs loo would be a great project - not too big and complicated. We've got a very pretty Roman blind in the room, which features a misty design of tulips on a soft, golden yellow background - the tulips are dusty pinks and plums in colour. We've chosen a colour which is a sort of browny plum which picks up on the palette of the blind and should also work well with the prints and frames we already have in there. So tomorrow the young master will be picking up his paintbrush.