Maybe it’s because it’s raining, the heating is on and the season of mists and mellow fruitfulness is nearly upon us. Maybe it’s our recession-hit, riot-plundered times. But right now I’m in need of some home comfort.
I want to snuggle down pyjama-clad amongst piles of soft blankets and squishy cushions with a cup of tea, a pile of magazines and a good book. Phone off, telly on, my children around me: the easy intimacy and reassurance of home.
I don’t want white, sleek and minimal, I want natural materials, sludgy colours, jewel tones, patina, texture, candlelight, hearty food and yes, goddamit, I want a fire. I want cosy.
The best homes are the most comfortable ones I think. The ones that welcome you in, that you can totally relax in. The ones packed with cushions, blankets and rugs, with comfortable seating, scented candles and subdued lighting. The ones that quietly envelope, shelter and protect the lives within them.
Where is your comfort zone? Where are you most relaxed? Is it in the bath with a glass of wine, or in bed with a good book, or hunkered down on your sofa? Where do you hide from the world when it all gets a bit much?