One year we forgot to take down the Christmas cards until the next year's cards started turning up in the mailbox.
Mum and Dad's bed was our trampoline. There was always a box of crayons on the coffee table.
Always a project on the dining room table - one winter it became a papier-mache battlefield.
The fridge door was held closed by a bungy rope. We rotated two black and white TVs and for a while it was a TV stack where one had the sound and the other the vision.
The back deck was for dress-up competitions.
Every cushion was embroidered, every shelf was laden with books, rocks and treasures.
Dogs came inside, boots came inside, that's why the carpet was camo-coloured.
We all understood that housework was the lowest priority in life, to be done as fast and as little as possible.
There was too much else to do - gardens to create, clothes to sew, books to read, stories to write, cakes to bake, games to play, life to live.
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Advertise with NZME.I grew up in a rambling, cock-eyed castle surrounded by a magical garden.
Our friends loved visiting our magical kingdom, where adventures happened and creativity bloomed.
My mother taught me that "home" has nothing to do with matching furniture, cleaning products or a Marie Kondo'd pantry.
It is all about creating that magical kingdom where anything is possible, you can be anything you want, supported, encouraged, nurtured and loved.
