Anatomy of a room

I know this photo has already put in an appearance (and that this has nothing to do with the garden project), but it strikes me that it deserves some attention.

Anyone who’s known me during the past thirty years (blimey, how did that happen?), would probably guess instantly that this is a photo of my bedroom.

The small BOAC (from the days when long haul British Airways was still British Overseas Airways Corporation) travel trunk beside the dressing table has been with me the longest. Inside is a very glamorous doll named (by me) Aurora, for the princess in Sleeping Beauty. Hanging on the rack opposite her is a wardrobe including evening gowns, peignoir and ‘fur’ coat, most of which were hand stitched by my mother during long winter evenings after I’d been sent to bed. This trunk of delights was left unwrapped and open for me to discover with joy and astonishment on Christmas morning when I was about five years old.

On the corner of the dressing table, near the trunk are two mementos of my time in New York when I was 20: An art deco jug, which was the beginnings of my collection of 1930s blue glass and a photo of me with Dan, a man I adored (in a father-I-never-had way). On the other side of the dressing table is a photo of my mum, looking very jolly, in her RAF uniform during the war. In between the two photos is a crescent shaped piece of mirrored blue glass on which my perfume has resided in three cities on two continents.

The dressing table itself and a matching chest of drawers (corner of which can be seen in bottom right of photo) were purchased during my waitressing days in Toronto – when some days I made just mad tips – in what used to be a great antique/second hand furniture shop in the Beaches area where I lived.

Other excellent purchases from this fantastic shop included the beautiful blue glass coffee and side tables which the fuckwit house sitter from hell destroyed when Mike was in hospital, seen here in happier days in my apartment in Toronto. (The curtains in this photo, having also hung in my livingrooms in Vancouver, Stoke Newington and Walthamstow, are now hanging in the lounge in Burnaby.)



The same shop on Queen Street in Toronto provided me with the deco sideboard and table and chairs in the diningroom on Gabriola (furniture I considered, but am now glad I didn’t, move to London in 2001). So, yes, that shop did a lot of business with me.



Anyway, back to the anatomy of the bedroom in Burnaby.

The lady lamp on the desk (itself a fairly recent acquisition in Walthamstow) and another on the other side of the bed were purchased from a wonderful art deco shop in World’s End in Chelsea. Sadly, the shop is no more, but the lamps have resided beside my bed in London (twice), Toronto and Vancouver (now twice).

The Arrobus watercolour of Town & Country School in Hampstead, now hanging above the desk was also purchased whilst in Finchley Road and is also very well travelled. (Out of curiosity I’ve just gone on the internet to see if there is any information about the value of an Arrobus. Seems to be about what I paid for it 25 years ago, so no appreciation. Oh, well. I didn’t buy it as an investment.)


Not visible in the Burnaby photo, but seen here are two other pieces of art purchased whilst residing in Finchley Road. I bought the two Tito water colours because I liked them, having no idea that I had accidentally stumbled on the originals of two not entirely unknown pieces of art until I saw the one on the right reproduced as a print in a French restaurant in Toronto. I have never had them valued as I love them dearly and do not want to be tempted to ever sell them. Also not visible in the Burnaby photo is the fan, purchased many years ago when I was on holiday in Granada with my friend Angelika. Sadly, no wrought iron mantelpiece in Burnaby, so the Titos and fan reside on and above the chest of drawers.

The duvet cover also goes back to Finchley Road, ordered on impulse from an ad in the Observer colour supplement, back in the day when only the Sunday papers had magazines. (I do miss having a good Sunday paper to read. The total lack of one here has led Mike and me to actually save the Saturday Globe & Mail to read on Sunday mornings.)

The Casablanca poster above the bed was purchased in the Fremont district of Seattle when Mike and I were visiting friends many years ago. It’s been above my bed on two continents.



On the wall opposite the Casablanca poster, is another one I’ve had for years: Roses and Rue by Edward Bawden, purchased from the Tate for obvious reasons.


The cat looks like Clancy and I’ve always been a Guardian reader.

This second view of the room also includes part of the snow dome collection which began as a joke on holiday in Venus in the 1980s and somehow ballooned out of control.

And just visible on the door to the room is the poster from my dear (and tragically departed) friend Tim’s retrospective show.


The only time I’ve ever been able to hang this long, tall poster to proper advantage was in the upstairs hallway of the house in Walthamstow.

So, that’s it: my trip down memory lane.

Back to the Gabriola garden tomorrow.