Sometimes when you walk into a shop you just know, don't you. You know it's a place where each time you visit you'd find more than one thing you could leave with. For me it was a case of ooh I like that, and that, and that too. So it was the kind of place that I could quite happily have left with lots of items, the trouble was that I didn't really have time to talk myself into (or out of) many of the items, so I did the next best thing and took some pictures so I can have a leisurely browse and so I can ponder some more.
It was these vases, candle holders and generally shiny things that had me hooked. Not only their design, but the fact they go together without looking like you've tried too hard and that the same design is available in multiple sizes. I'm already in the TOTOATOT frame of mind - yes the This One, This One And That One Too - and it's hard not to be.
I've realised though that I haven't told you where I am. Well exactly where I am. I'm in Joyful Living in Norfolk. It's a shop by Jo Griffiths in the what seems to be ever-growing Drove Orchards in Thornham, just along from Hunstanton or Sunny Hunny as you'll often hear me call it.
On their website they say the items often "feature neutral textures, rather than bold patterns, for calm, easy-going living" and that it's a great "mix of old and new, more beautiful and functional than fashion-led" - I knew there was a reason it appealed to me.
The natural textures, the old style typewriter and my new favourite of diffusers. Oh and some yellow chevroned rugs.
It's the type of shop that I could look round endlessly, but the type of shop that MOH rolls his eyes at. Luckily for me though my dad was there and mum and I sent them off on a exploratory mission down towards the barn to read a sign. My mum's a clever woman, we had time to browse in peace, they were off doing something useful and you know what I don't think we ever did ask them what the sign said.
The shells and the glassware was much more important. As was the potted history of the old medicine bottles and our local chemist, Beales. I do remember having an old gunked up bottle of pink, chalky chamomile lotion in the bathroom cupboard in such a bottle, but that was it for me memory-wise. I'd happily have some of these though.
Usually I'm not drawn to shells. Well not shells I'd like to have in my house anyway. I find them fascinating, but usually I'm happy that they're in someone else's collection. Not these though, I think it's their whiteness and cleanness. And in the picture below the shininess. Or maybe it's because it's in its own dome. It's gorgeous either way.
When I saw this crocheted throw, I knew that was my cue to leave the shop. For the record I left without the throw, but I was sorely tempted to take the caressing of it a step further, to unfurl it from its rung, to ask the price and then to convince myself it's just what I've been looking for.
In fact it is what I've been looking for, it was that pearlised cotton that just feels nice to the touch. I've been meaning to teach myself to crochet and now I've seen this, it's what I had in mind. I just didn't know that until I saw it. But of course it's slightly ambitious for a first project, especially when I can't even crochet. Yet.
So I left, almost with the blinkers on, but not quite. It was everything about this shop that I liked, even the storage. But I knew it was time to go as staying any longer would be dangerous. So if you're ever in the area, do go along to this shop. But don't leave with the crocheted throw or we might never speak again, that is, unless you leave with it wrapped and with my name on.
Do you know that a shop's just you, as soon as you walk in the door? Or is that just me?
