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The best view in my house (probably)

You’re reading Home Truths, a newsletter from me, Susy Smith. I am many things: a parent of grown-up kids, a dog owner, a gardener and a compulsive mover of vases (I worked for years as a stylist). I am also a writer/editor and former Editor-in-Chief of British Country Living Magazine, for whom I still write a monthly column.

I write here on an eclectic mix of subjects about life, and a few of the lessons I’ve learned along the way. Subscribe now for free and join the community! You can also support me and my work by upgrading to a paid subscription at any time – for either option, just tap the button below

Do you have a favourite view of the interior in your home? I have several in mine, but this one probably wins. It’s the first thing I see when I walk in through my front door and it instantly makes me feel at peace. This is the view down the hall and into the room we call the snug, and then through into the kitchen.

The hall is painted in shades of grey, not fifty, just three. I love it because it feels so easy on the eye and gives the hall a stillness. They are all Farrow and Ball colours: from memory the walls are Shaded White, the doors, skirting boards and stairs are Hardwick White and the wide, elm floorboards are painted a shade I can’t quite remember the name of, that is midway between the other two.

There is something enticing about doorways framing a view. One can’t see everything, but there is enough to be intriguing and lead you on. I chose a colour palette to run through the house that makes every room feel connected. The tones are all similar, even though some of the colours are different and there is pattern on some walls in the bedrooms. This means that each room blends into the next with no jarring jumps of colour or intensity. It creates a calmness throughout.

The scene framed by the snug doorway is of a pale carpet, pale walls, a sofa and a print on the wall. The walls are rough, cream-stained planking from the furniture and kitchen company, Neptune and give the room a feel of being in New England or by the seaside. It is always one of the first things visitors to the house comment upon.

The print, by the late Welsh painter, John Knapp Fisher, is of houses in a Pembrokeshire village street and a figure with his back to us looking out to sea. The colours in the print mirror those in the room. The sofa, upholstered in a cream and pale green ticking stripe, is from John Lewis. I found it in one of those serendipitous moments that feel like they were meant to be. I was in the store looking for something else completely but, as I passed through the furniture department, I saw the sofa and was instantly drawn to it.

It was the perfect colours for the snug and, most importantly, it was small. The space I had was very limited. I measured the sofa – I used to always carry a measuring tape in my bag when I worked on magazines and then, when I got home, measured the space. It would fit exactly. When the delivery men pushed it into place, it looked like I’d had it specially made, so perfect was it in shape, style and size for the space and the room. How fortuitous, I thought, that the store just happened to have that particular sofa, in the right size and the right colours and that I managed to see it that day. I am sitting on it now as I write this to you.

My daughter Connie sitting on the tiny sofa. The piece of fabric you can just see to the right of the print is a vintage flag. I just put it there because I like it!

There is a change of level as you move from the hall into the snug – you walk down two steps and it’s amazing that such a small thing can bring me so much delight! In fact, there are several changes of level around the house and these, somehow, make the interior feel much more interesting. It was one of the elements that attracted me to the house when I first viewed it before buying. In a snapshot moment, I realised that the steps down into the snug conjured up a memory for me from long ago.

When I was growing up in Northern Ireland, my Aunty Molly and Uncle David lived in a large, elegant, Edwardian house about 20 minutes away from us in East Belfast. As a small child, I was very awe-struck by the fact that their house was much bigger and grander than our 1930’s semi and, although I knew nothing about period houses then, I could tell it had a very different atmosphere, with far more interesting nooks and crannies than there were in my family home. It had a downstairs “cloakroom” with a toilet and sink in it, and where coats and boots were stored. I had never seen one of these – it seemed so “posh”: we had one toilet and that was upstairs and our coats hung in a tiny, under-stairs cupboard.  

As one walked to the end of their generous, tiled hallway, past a formal dining room and study on one side and a gracious drawing room that ran the full length of the house on the other, there were two steps down into what had once been the scullery before entering the big kitchen.

I loved walking down these steps – it’s hard for me to explain why. Perhaps it was simply the novelty value, maybe there is a psychological explanation for why changes of level are pleasing to humans, I’m not sure, but it certainly gives you the feeling that you are being led somewhere, that these two steps are a change of mood and a change of pace, an entrée to the next part of the house. Walking down the two steps in my house gives me the same feeling and often, when I have time to be present to it, reminds me of time spent with Molly and David and my cousins all those years ago.

On the wall, above the door into the snug, is a plaque. It looks like a slab of stone, with words letter-carved into it. It is, in fact, a photograph of letter-carved stone printed onto canvas. A very good fake. The words say,

THIS IS THE SEASON FOR FINE WINE, ROSES AND DRUNKEN FRIENDS

ENJOY THIS MOMENT, FOR THIS MOMENT IS YOUR LIFE

I believe this to be such a great sentiment and it very much sums up my philosophy on life. I often point it out when people visit for the first time, so important do I consider these wise words.

There is another reason this plaque is special to me. The original piece of letter-carved stone was designed and carved by Martin Cook who comes from a family of carvers dating back to 1730. I got to know Martin when he carved a small memorial stone to go on the grave where my parents are buried in a village churchyard in Surrey. He is a charming, immensely talented and empathetic man.

So that’s my favourite interior view. I bought this house 13 years ago and it was decorated over the ensuing years. The hall and snug were two of the first areas that I decided upon and I still love everything about them.

Although there are elements that are looking a bit scruffy these days and need freshening up, when I try to work out with my husband what decorating we should prioritise budget-wise, I realise that, so much do I feel a part of this house and it of me, that there is absolutely nothing I would change. Even when we re-paint and recarpet, I will try to the best of my ability to replicate exactly what is already here. I find it so pleasing that I cannot imagine it any other way.

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