Our old girl goes under the knife tomorrow. Tonight we pack up this room in prepartion for the big skylight installation. I feel very nervous. Not only because this feels like major surgery on the old girl, but because it's my idea. My first major renovating decision coming to fruition. The style of the skylight, the location, the flashing colour, everything. My choice. We've made a few changes since we bought the place, but all cosmetic and all reversible. Some people relish these major decorating decisions, but I'm not sure I do. Oh the anguish... Am I lacking confidence in my decision? Why yes I am as it happens.
I wouldn't mind so much if it was a more contemporary dwelling. But our old girl is circa 100 years. She's withstood a century of fires, floods, dozens of housewives, untold handymen and at least one urban gay decorator and remains in pretty good shape. Fairly original and unspoilt by decorating fads. So I can't help but feel that in owning such an old place, my role is more caretaker than owner. Yet it's our home and it has to suit our family. The challenge lies in striking a balance between creating a warm, liveable modern family space whilst respecting the history of the house. Does cutting a whopping great hole in the ceiling find that balance? Or spoil our modest Tasmanian farmhouse. We'll find out tomorrow I guess. I really hope this skylight decision is the right one. Oh dear. If you never see the after shots, you can assume it wasn't!