There’s a particular kind of charm in noticing what doesn’t quite match. In my cottage, the skirting boards tell their own story—three of them in quiet agreement, and one that’s decided to go its own way.

The wall with the wallpaper (post-four readers) hosts a skirting board of a different species entirely. Taller, with a sharper bevel, it stands apart from its companions—who are shorter, softer, and more worn at the edges. It’s not a mistake, exactly. More like a moment of improvisation. A decision made in haste or necessity, now baked into the character of the room.

And then there are the nails. Not tucked discreetly at the top or bottom, but planted right in the middle of each board like punctuation marks. They catch the light and the eye, and I’ve grown oddly fond of them. After some thought, I decided to fill, sand, and paint over the nails—softening their punctuation without erasing the human touch they represent.

I’ve debated whether to replace the boards entirely or unify their styles, but maybe the mismatched skirting is part of the rhythm here. A reminder that decorating isn’t always about perfection—it’s about noticing, adapting, and sometimes letting the quirks stay.