Our House at the end of our Street (Finale)

After months of cleaning, packing and prep, Settlement Day was finally upon us (Settlement Day, like D-Day, is being written in caps due to the monumentality of occasion in my head). We arrived at the empty house only to find that our names had been removed from the mailbox by the mailman. "Indignant" is an understatement, but then it dawned on me. "Let it go. Relinquish the reins. Cede. Surrender and yield" (battle terminology courtesy of the above-mentioned D-Day analogy).

So hard.

I had a tome planned for the final posting on this particular house... but it became so maudlin, sentimental, I thought I would spare you. However, I do feel like I have lost a limb.

It has been said that...

You never really leave a place or person you love, part of them you take with you, leaving a part of yourself behind.

Our House at the end of our Street (XI)

I realized when reading my post from yesterday... that it erred slightly on the side of being random (given the image and the writing didn't quite correlate). Put it down to zero sleep and beside-myself-anxiety about the impending box 'n pack. Well, the packers arrived this morning in the teeniest truck I have ever seen... literally out of a scene from Noddy. I thought Big-ears may emerge and as I was about to simply faint in front of the foreman, he assured me that today was all about packing and wrapping. Tomorrow would focus on LOADING and then the mother of all trucks would dwarf the road. 

Alrighty then... as I ingest my 17th Advil to alleviate a packing-tape-being-pulled-and-snapped-induced migraine... and pour myself a G&T.

Couldn't have been nicer. Back again tomorrow.

Earnestly contemplating tissue paper for yet ANOTHER breakable

Not the clearest image, but look... boxes with legs and the red carpet.

This is the last night in our dear old dame (house). While she isn't photo-worthy this evening (will post the last few pics next week), here is a GORGEOUS vintage image of my Mount Vernon...

Not sure of the origin or date of this photograph (possibly via The Library of Congress)

Our House at the end of our Street (X)

Casual Thursday. A practically impromptu spring lunch. Just before everyone arrived, I snapped a few pics. In the background, are two of the panels that make up the gorgeous triptych given to me by the extraordinary David Wiesand. These depict the E. Sachse & Co. lithograph of Mount Vernon Place and the Washington Monument (circa 1850) - in the Baltimore neighborhood I have been living in for the past seven years. What a wonderful reminder they will be of my talented friend, and my beloved 'hood'...

Our House at the end of our Street (IX)

View from my bed this morning...

Our House at the end of our Street (VIII)

What do you get when you combine a terrarium and a kitchen? Sheer bliss. This is our favorite room in the house: our kitchen. Yet, when we bought our home in 2005, it was not fit for consumption. Fast-forward two years - floor-to-ceiling windows were installed to replace floor-to-ceiling vinyl (the latter being responsible for instant indigestion). And not a minute too soon. Today, this is where we eat, cook and do homework, plus discuss the day's trials and tribulations while enjoying a slightly voyeuristic view of the urban promenade...

And two gratuitous views into the dining-room, as the light was perfect....

Our House at the end of our Street (VII)

My poor long-suffering desk literally groans with the weight of knickknacks and baubles. So much for me ever doing any productive work there. Instead, my computer is constantly on my lap contributing to varicose veins and lack of circulation. And don't even mention the dusting...

I must say I am feeling particularly nostalgic and sentimental about the house, as it is on the market. So, snapped these photographs (in a frenzy, lest I forget an inch) over the weekend in varying degrees of light...

The Thrill of the Hunt

It was the line "Strangest midget in the world, Ripley's Tent" - scribbled beneath a pencil-sketch on a torn-out art-pad page - that caught my eye at Woodward's in Hampden. Priced at $28 each, I thought it was excellent value for original pencil drawings from 1936. I chose my 4 favorites, and went to the register. Turns out, it was $28 for the entire lot. Thrilled with the steal, I threw in the fantastic porcelain cow trophy head for good measure...

Acquired - At Housing Works

I am rather pleased with this little painting, found while rummaging through the treasures at Housing Works in Chelsea (NYC). It was such a steal. There is also a remnant of another painting lodged in the back of the frame, which I may try to salvage. It should be mandatory to frequent the HW thrift stores that are dotted about Manhattan and Brooklyn - the proceeds benefitting the homeless and those living with HIV Aids. The more valuable donated items can be found in the windows of each store. These items can only be purchased via the ever-revolving online auctions. In past occasions, I have found Dolce and Gabbana jeweled evening shoes, a Stella McCartney stag keyring (which I made into a necklace) and a vintage gold and turquoise embroidered brocade skirt - all for absolute bargains. Read more about Housing Works here...

Our House at the end of our Street (Christmas II)

Liberace-style and no garland left behind - my mantra for wrapping. As my grandmother used to say... be philanthropic with your ribbons.

Found this hilarious quote by comedienne, Phyllis Diller:

Christmas is a time when everybody wants his past forgotten and his present remembered. What I don't like about office Christmas parties is looking for a job the next day...


With two days remaining until Sunday, I would like to wish you all lots of love and the very happiest of holidays.

Our House at the end of our Street (Christmas)

More tomorrow...

Our House at the end of our Street (VI)

Some random 'still-life' shots taken one dark and stormy night last summer. The turbulent weather perfectly echoing the mood of the diorama...

Images by Philippa Berrington-Blew

Our House at the end of our Street (V)

The entrance hall has seen it all. Funny stories abound about the house from all and sundry who have had the fortune (or misfortune) to make its acquaintance. One such story involved a tenant who, obviously in need of some quick cash, hooked up a hose pipe to the washing machines in the basement, fed the pipe through the window, and started his own make-shift car-wash on the corner. Nice! I am sure the previous owner was thrilled to receive the water bill. Indeed, when I first pressed my nose up against the glass panels of the front door, the first thing that struck me were the mirrors, followed, very quickly, by a shock of outlandish wallpaper. Trés bordello-chic. I had two choices. Get rid of the wallpaper. Or consider an alternative career as a Madame. Did Oscar Wilde not once proclaim, "Either that wall paper goes, or I do?" So all that remains today is one square meter, in homage to the original owner, a wallpaper merchant...

Note the hideous '70's closet built under the staircase.

The careful removal of the wallpaper, revealing that the plaster beneath was surprising in tact. Also, note the maroon carpet on the treads...

Post closet-removal, revealing another layer of wallpaper. Luckily the mosaic floor was more or less pristine after the demolition.

Removing the maroon carpet was a massive task. Especially getting all the giant nails up, removing the paint and goo, and then hand-sanding each tread and riser.

Pretty afternoon light reflection from the leaded glass fanlight above the front door...

The finished project (is it ever quite finished, though?)