I wake up to be greeted by a room enveloped by cream-coloured walls, with slight shades of antique pink, on which the soft, warm light of the lamp is reflected. The bed in the centre is covered with a hand-crocheted, floral-patterned bedspread and vintage cushions of all kinds. On the wooden bedside tables are lamps with lace lampshades, reading books and delicate doilies. There is a faint aroma of lavender. I see curtains with delicate embroidery floating lightly in the breeze coming in through the ajar window. The little birds bid me good morning with their joyful song. Everything is quiet. This is where mornings are born in old books and linen.

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