A 15th-century farmhouse in Carmarthenshire filled with riotous colour

When interior designer Willa Lloyd moved to her husband’s family’s historic farmhouse in south Wales, she didn’t let half a millennium of history get in the way of a vivacious colour palette
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Simon Brown

In the mid-18th century, the building was much enlarged and remodelled, creating the Georgian front elevation it has today, before doubling in size in 1830 to accommodate a large, prosperous Victorian family and their servants. An ancient room became a chapel with a vaulted ceiling, then was turned into a bedroom again in the 1950s. The history of the farmhouse was always just under the surface during the renovation, sometimes literally: when Willa and Tom dug up the floor in the main hall, they found the original 16th-century stones about two feet down.

Amid this planning minefield, Tom, an architectural historian, was invaluable in securing permission to change things by demonstrating that the house was originally laid out in a particular way. Willa only got permission for her conservatory, for example, because Tom “produced quite an old drawing” that proved there had been a similar room there in the past. That was lucky, because today it is Willa’s favourite room – though it likely looks rather different to whatever room was there before in its place. Stepping in through a doorway up from the kitchen, itself full of riotous colour, it’s impossible not to note the intensely bright space. “It’s completely rather chaotic, and very eclectic.”

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Other elements of the house’s design were more serendipitous. While living and working in Edinburgh, Willa would often head to the Edinburgh Tile Shop for clients, where she picked up “rather saucy mermaid tiles” painted by someone called Kate Glanville. The tiles were branded “Bethlehem, Carmarthenshire”. “You remember a name like Bethlehem,” says Willa. “I said to Tom, ‘Is that near?’ and he said, ‘Yes, it’s about eight miles away.’ So we went and found her, and she’s actually become a great friend.” Kate’s saucy tiles now adorn one of the upstairs bathroom’s walls. “I gave her the wallpaper and said that I wanted it to be wonderfully bright.”

A Scottish-Welsh axis runs through the house that reflects Willa and Tom’s respective backgrounds: the furniture and many furnishings comprise a deliberate combination of their various possessions, and many of the portraits depict their respective ancestors. “All the furniture and all the pictures are merged. Half are Welsh, and half are Scottish.” She points to a portrait of a small boy in a kilt hung over the staircase as one such Caledonian touch, while in the dining room, there’s a painting of “a man and a woman who used to live here. Tom’s ancestors from years ago.” As such, the house has become a sort of incarnation of their twenty-year relationship.

“I do like people to walk in and not feel intimidated,” says Willa, for whom the space is the perfect melange of her professional work and personal taste, all expressed within her husband’s ancestral home. “When you’re a decorator, and you’re working for other people, you can’t inflict very bright colours on them unless they want it. When you’re doing your own house, you can.”