Danny’s mum rang at half past ten last Thursday night, absolutely beside herself. “Sarah love, I’ve just told my sister she can stay for the weekend and then remembered your spare room looks like a charity shop stockroom exploded.” I had to laugh because honestly? She wasn’t wrong. Our second bedroom had been the dumping ground for everything we couldn’t be bothered to deal with properly – old Christmas decorations, three broken hovers I kept meaning to fix, and about fifteen carrier bags of clothes that didn’t fit anymore but were “too good to throw away.”
You know how it is with small bedrooms – they’re the spaces you forget exist until someone needs to sleep in them. Ours is maybe eight foot by ten on a good day, with a window that’s basically the size of a postage stamp and a radiator that takes up half one wall. Not exactly the Ritz.
But here’s what I’ve figured out after years of bodging things together on no budget: tiny doesn’t mean rubbish, and putting some thought in beats throwing money at it every time. When my mate Lisa stayed over last month and said she slept better than she had in ages, I knew we’d actually got it right for once.
The bed thing is where everyone starts going wrong, and I definitely did this myself initially. Thought I was being clever cramming a double bed frame in there because “doubles are more comfortable, right?” Wrong. Guests had to basically climb over the end of the bed to get to the window, and there was nowhere to put anything. Looked ridiculous. Ended up selling it on Facebook and getting a decent single instead – found this wooden one at a car boot for twenty-five quid that the woman said came from her daughter’s room. Gave it a quick sand down and a coat of white paint, added one of those memory foam toppers from Aldi when they had them on special offer. Makes all the difference, that topper does.
Storage is where these little rooms either work or they absolutely don’t, and I’ve made every mistake going. Tried putting shelves up near the ceiling once – what was I thinking? Guests would’ve needed a stepladder just to hang up a shirt. Mental. Now everything’s at normal person height where you can actually reach it without doing gymnastics.
Got this old ottoman thing from my nan when she moved into her bungalow – she was going to stick it in a charity shop but I thought it might work at the end of the bed. It’s probably from the seventies, brown velvet that’s seen better days, but it’s solid as anything. Guests can sit on it to put shoes on, and inside there’s room for spare blankets, extra pillows, whatever they might need. Cost me nothing except an afternoon cleaning twenty years of dust off it.
The hook situation was a game-changer, and I’m not even joking. Sounds stupid, doesn’t it? But when you’re staying somewhere, you need places to put things. Your jacket, handbag, the towel from your shower, clothes you’ve worn but aren’t ready to wash yet. I stuck four hooks on the back of the door – nothing fancy, just basic ones from B&Q – and suddenly guests weren’t draping everything over the one chair or leaving sad piles of clothes on the floor.
Lighting nearly did my head in because the room came with this horrible fluorescent thing in the middle of the ceiling that made everyone look like they were dying. Proper grim. Swapped it for a simple pendant shade – cost about thirty quid from the lighting place on Mansfield Road – and added a little bedside lamp I found in a charity shop. The room went from looking like a hospital corridor to actually quite cozy. Well, as cozy as our tiny box room can look anyway.
Had a right disaster with curtains initially. Bought these heavy navy things thinking they’d make the room feel “sophisticated” or whatever. Made it feel like a cave instead. Took them back to Dunelm and got simple white ones that let light in during the day but still give you privacy. Much better, and they don’t make the room feel even smaller than it already is.
Everyone bangs on about mirrors making rooms look bigger, and you know what? They’re not wrong, but you’ve got to get the placement right. I stuck a big one opposite our pathetic little window, and it genuinely does make the space feel less claustrophobic. Found it at the British Heart Foundation shop for twelve quid – bit tarnished around the edges but nothing you really notice unless you’re looking for it. The reflection bounces what little natural light we get around the room, makes it feel less dungeon-like.
Spent ages agonizing over paint colors, reading all these articles about “the best colors for small spaces.” Ended up going with basic white – not brilliant white because that’s too harsh, but a slightly warm white that doesn’t make you feel like you’re in a mental institution. Cost twenty-eight quid for enough paint and took me a weekend to do properly. Added some color with cushions and a throw instead of committing to anything too bold on the walls.
Got a little plant for the windowsill because someone on Instagram said plants make rooms feel more welcoming. Chose one of those pothos things because they’re apparently impossible to kill, which suited me perfectly. It’s actually quite nice having something green in there, makes the room feel less forgotten about.
Temperature’s a weird thing in small rooms – they heat up fast in summer and get freezing in winter. Bought a little fan from Argos for when it gets stuffy, and I always leave an extra blanket folded up somewhere guests can find it. Nothing worse than being too hot or cold when you’re trying to sleep somewhere that’s not your own bed.
The little touches are what make the difference though, and they don’t cost much. Put a small dish on top of the chest of drawers for earrings and coins and things. Always leave a glass and a bottle of water next to the bed – learned that one from staying in Premier Inns. Keep the phone charger plugged in where people can reach it easily. Bought a few magazines from the Co-op reduced shelf and leave them on the bedside table.
My favorite thing though is this little basket I put together with random useful stuff – travel shampoo, spare toothbrush, phone charger cable, packet of tissues, some decent biscuits, proper coffee sachets instead of the horrible instant stuff. Probably cost fifteen quid to put together, but guests always seem dead chuffed about it. Saves all those awkward conversations where they’re trying to politely ask if you’ve got things they need.
The thing is, making a tiny guest bedroom actually decent isn’t about having loads of space or money to chuck at it. It’s about thinking through what would make you comfortable if you were staying there, then figuring out how to make it happen with whatever you’ve got to work with. Our room’s still small and the window’s still rubbish, but at least people can sleep there without feeling like they’re camping in a storage cupboard.
