Move over Martha

Being one with no disposable income and about to inherit another hand-me-down table (albeit a big one with fourteen chairs) and a home that is indeed an ode to Ikea and a bedroom that resembles more that of a uni student than grown up sensible parents to four, I can often be found perusing websites devoted to style and design I can not only not afford but would be stupid to purchase considering our current domestic situation. You know. With kids. Boys. Who view a lounge like a lion views a herd of wilderbeast. Something to be grabbed around the neck, tackled to the ground and rolled in dirt, blood, muck and guts until all that is left is a torn nay shredded carcass for the rest to pick over.

These are by an Australian designer Ian Factor and I like them very much:
They’re simply called ‘drawers’ and seeing as that is exactly what they are, I like that too. I also love the lines of this:

Coffee table

These are called fun, happy and smile:
There are matching carafes to go with them:
and bowls:

I like the concept of a handle-less cup for cups a tea. A beaker if you will:
I like these a lot.

I reckon my weetbix, yoghurt and strawberries would taste mighty fine in one of these:
and I can only imagine how good my bircher would taste.

I love the idea of Scandinavian furniture. But this almost $4,000 harp chair is not quite what I had in mind:
From the glasses to here are all available at Great Dane Furniture, a shop I could spend many an hour I suspect. They also have a blog, natch.

Moving on. From Anibou. This is called Penguin Donkey by Isoken Plus, which makes me want it even more. Can you imagine:
C – where’s today’s paper
K – Penguin Donkey has it.
I think I’d have to call it Albert.

This is by Johan Larsson and it appeals to the part of me desperate to live in a converted warehouse to be used as a room divider. It’s like Ikea for grown-ups.
I really like this chair.
I imagine it in a corner that catches the morning or late afternoon sun. Somewhere I could sit, legs curled up under me and a book in hand. Somewhere one of the kids could come to me and snuggle in next to me as we read something together.
AS IF.
No kid of mine would be allowed near it.
They would bring friends over who would ask, ‘why’s that chair there in the corner on its own?’ and the boys would calmly, with resignation, reply ‘oh, that mum’s chair’.
Full stop.

This bed appeals, although I want a fabric bedhead but I’m coming to that
It meets the prerequisite of no bed-end. The one rule that has been implemented by the 6ft3 husband. That and no beds with those weird wooden ledges around them. Shin-killers we call those. Although the feet on the bed above look like toe-killers, but I’m loving ‘the line’ of the bed head.

Moving on.

I have a bordering on stalking obsession with Cloth fabrics. In another life I would have loved to have been a fabric designer and producing fabrics like this woman. The problem with doing it in this life is that I simply would not know where to begin. I think I’ve spoken of this addiction before and if I wasn’t so lazy I’d go back and check but there you go really. I want, no need, a bedhead covered in one of their fabrics and then some bedside lamps in a complementary print and some throw cushions that make no sense to have on a bed because they always end up on the floor as you don’t sleep on them but look nice and turn your student-era bedroom to that of one for adults.

I mean apart from gorgeous organic fabrics like this:
and this:

I could be getting around town with a kicky little bag like this:
and coming home to a house that looked something like this:
Sigh.