(Transferred over from the old Vox Blog)
So I was sitting in this little coffee shop in the middle of deepest, darkest Somerset. You know the kind of place. The one that sells antiques amongst new junk, and serves tea and cake while you are seated on furniture you can actually buy. (And this place actually did other random food like olives, houmous and pitta bread but that’s another story).
I order an Earl Grey and look up (we’re seated in what would have been the hallway of the Library – when it was a Library) and i’m almost blinded by the bling hanging from the ceiling. That’s right. They were selling chandeliers. Big ones, small ones, white ones, black ones, ones that took candles, ones that were electrically powered, even one made of antlers… I was both horrified and excited.
Here in lies the problem. Chandeliers in normal people’s houses do not work as a general rule. I’m not going to say that they never work, because if tastefully introduced in the right environment they do, but still… We are talking footballer’s wives stuff really aren’t we? So when presented with them on mass I recoiled in horror. But then, I looked again, and I fell in love.
She was beautiful. Perfect in every way. Painted white with just the right amount of light bulbs and just the right minimal amount of bling. I should have bought her. I should have at least taken her photo. But alas, I did not. (There were too many scary looking old ladies in duffle coats). So now you will find me trawling the internet when I have a few moments, mourning the loss of something I never had.
Here are some other chandeliers I like (just not as much).