I woke up to this on Saturday morning. And smiled. Happy.

It’s a lampshade.
A hand-painted majolika piece from Hungary that I bought from a lad who sells lamps out of the back of his parents’ house a few villages over.

I had thought that majolika was a Hungarian thing, but I was wrong.

The first pieces of majolica pottery were made during the 15th century on the Spanish island of Majorca—said to be once known as Majolica. Later, the tin-glazed earthenware was crafted in Italy and France (where it was known as faenza and faience, respectively, after the Italian city of Faenza, famous for its pottery). In the 19th century, artisans began creating majolica pottery in England with the patterns and colors that are widely recognized today.

Hungary’s big-name ceramicists, like Zsolnay and Herend, include majolika in their life works. I doubt my lamp is from either. Not that it matters. I think it’s gorgeous.

It’s not the lamp that has me smiling. It’s that it’s finally hanging from the roof of our upstairs bedroom. And it’s only taken five years to get it there.

Yup. We’re five years into an 18-month renovation that was far bigger and far more expensive than we’d imagined. COVID certainly didn’t help. It’s starred a cast of notable (and less notable) characters, some of whom were in such a hurry to get away they left their tools behind.

I had thought it was a foreigner thing, but it’s not discriminatory. I see Hungarian friends having similar problems. Soaring prices. A shortage of talent. High demand.

In those five years, I’ve developed quite a thing for old ceiling lights.
And I’ve discovered something peculiar about myself: I have a thing for connections and flow.

Starting from the downstairs back of the house, I have an iron and glass chandelier. I then move onto a few wood, iron, and glass ones before the copper, iron, and glass one at the bottom of the stairs. Then, upstairs, moving from front to back of the house, I have copper, iron, and glass, morphing to copper and iron, then copper and majolica, and finally this majolica piece.

My sense of flow has been appeased by our electrician. a man with the patience of Job, who moved the downstairs pieces once upstairs had a ceiling to hang from.

There is one break in the chain – in the kitchen – where copper and iron make a brief appearance in a starring role. All credit to himself, this was his score.

I’m grateful that we could incorporate so much old stuff in the house – that’s been a goal.
Reuse. Repurpose.

I look for sellers clearing out their granny’s attic, selling off her embroidery. I’m a massive fan of the colours, preferring old linens to cotton bases. For three years, I’ve been searching for a bed piece for the guest room double, and I finally found it.

That’s two rooms done.

There is a light at the end of the tunnel. We’re getting there.

I’m grateful that we’ve stuck with it, despite the angst.