Full House

The verandah gets a workout. 

It's a strange job sometimes.

Apart from hot-cross buns for breakfast and chocolate bunnies on guests' pillows, Easter is just another busy weekend here in the B&B.

With no children of our own (a long story and one that might be told), neither of us see it as a huge sacrifice to work through long weekends and public holidays, after all, there are people all around us running cafes, waiting in restaurants, crewing the dolphin boats, campsites and supermarket checkouts.

In a village like this there is a great camaraderie with other 'tourist operators' many of whom, like us, put their shoulders to the wheel right through the season, but we all know that in a few weeks when the bay is less busy, we will catch up over coffee and catch up on lost sleep. Maybe even take a few days off and stay in a B&B ourselves.

It's a strange way to earn a living but in many ways it's like other jobs I've done (and sometimes still do) -  especially making TV and attempting to write. It's all about connecting with people, drawing them into your version of the world - giving them a fantasy place to dream, escape and recharge - and maybe even inspiring them with a glimpse into a life lived slightly differently.

There is plenty of job satisfaction too. We actually see people soften. Often quite fractious and stressed on arrival, their whole demeanour changes visibly by the time they leave: they're smiling, refreshed and grateful, and that feels good, it really does.

So have a wonderful Easter weekend everyone, whatever you are doing...

Before and After: B&B Makeover Reveal #1

As I mentioned in my last post we have a good collection of 'before', 'during' and 'after' photos, and I intend to put some of the better B and B makeover comparisons up here.

There is nothing quite like the idea of 'Before and After': it's like a peek into the possibility of time travel.

The device is used so much on TV and in magazines because it's very effective. On video, of course, you can dissolve between images taken across hours, days, years or even decades.

We used to spend ages matching old photos (and footage) of war-torn French villages, overgrown  gardens, passe bathrooms and wannabe models - carefully lining up perspectives, noses and eye-lines - with the exact frame we were filming so we'd be able to dissolve seamlessly into the 'how-they-look-now' shots in the edit.

To aid absolute perfection there were all kinds of industry tricks involving blue-tack, tracing paper, gaffer tape, monitors and black marker pens.    

Anyway, no such complexity here. These are two shots of the main room in the B&B taken a few months apart. This is the first room we renovated and I think it shows just how transformative a coat of white paint can be. We call it the Verandah room.

The smell of an oily rag

We're renovating our Bed and Breakfast on the smell of an oily rag. By that I mean we're not spending serious amounts of money paying someone else to transform our house into an architectural magazine marvel (I wish). No, we're doing it DIY, one room at a time, at the rate of approximately one room a year.


Using recycled materials where ever possible, we're renovating, decorating, furnishing and styling everything ourselves - juggling the ever-growing B&B business, our freelance work, family, pets and other commitments behind-the-scenes.

It can be pretty daunting living in a house as you recreate it around yourself and we have been doing this for a few years now. Sometimes I get the panicky heebie-jeebies and have to breathe slowly, close my eyes and try to picture just how fabulous I know the outcome will be. Luckily, I'm good at imagining the mind's-eye 'after' pictures and there is no shortage of scary 'before and during' photos to remind me how grim it all looked to begin with.

Apart from the trusty plumber and electrician, Handy Husband does almost everything (I mostly sand, paint and point), so not an evening goes by when I don't thank the milky-way that I was lucky enough to find such a wonderful, generous, practical man - even if he does, quite often, smell like an oily rag.



I've linked this post to Maxabella's grateful space.