Esther McCarthy: When does treasure become mere tat?

I found a scroll in a cardboard yoke and pulled it out expecting it to be a print of some sort, Instead, it was my great-great-uncle Eugene’s teaching diploma from 1929.

Treasure or tat? Painting makes you realise just how much you have.

The painters are in. This is not a euphemism. There are, as I type, actually three men in the kitchen with ladders and rollers and putty.

Today they are just prepping the walls. This is a good thing as I lied when he asked me if I have my colours picked out. I know I want some kind of green, but I get overwhelmed looking at all the options. Sage, hemlock, mantis, mint, dark olive, lawn, aquamarine, malachite, komu... oh my! I’m turning a shade of green trying to decide. I throw on the kettle and have a... dammit! A green tea.