But let’s go back to early summer 2019. As mentioned in my previous renovation posts, when we bought our house it all looked fairly respectable and well kept as you can see from the two pictures below. This is what the bedroom looked like when we viewed it. Somewhat dated and not exactly my cup of tea, but that’s to be expected and absolutely ok. We anticipated something of a “6 week cosmetic renovation” job. As you’ll know by now, the whole thing turned into a 9 month long gutting and restoring project. And the bedroom wasn’t completely exempt, even though at least we didn’t have to have the plaster ripped off the walls.

Once we got the keys to our new home and looked around, things started to look a little different. Without the furniture and devoid of any decorations, it already started to look somewhat neglected. The “white” walls looked anything but, the woodwork looked very yellow and half-painted, sockets were broken and it had an overall pretty grubby feel to it. Then there was the bizarre way one of the wardrobe doors had been cut into half to accommodate the vanity unit in front of it. Never mind, it was all going to go anyway. Bring on the sledgehammer! As you can imagine, our builders had fun dismantling and destroying everything in this room…

Ripping out the carpet revealed - much to my delight - the original floorboards! Finally a win! It also revealed a concrete hearth in a rather unfortunate position. I’m all for off-centre positioning and non-symmetrical arrangements, but those too have to be done correctly. And this just wasn’t. The hearth was just off-centre and looked misplaced. Due to the chimney coming up from the room below, a fireplace in the middle of this wall wasn’t doable, so we decided to not have a fireplace at all and that eye-sore concrete slab went in the skip.

Whilst ripping out the carpets provided us with some hope of a nice room, ripping off the wallpaper was a different story. Just as in the rooms on the ground floor, the previous owners had installed secondary glazing. This, combined with wallpaper that wouldn’t let the walls breathe (going back to how old buildings rely on ventilation to “work” properly) had resulted in a distinct lack of fresh air and ventilation. Add to that bedside cabinets that had been “welded into the alcoves” and you’ll have the perfect conditions for mould to fester. And that’s what I found. Thick, black mould and a damp smell. The secondary glazing was ripped out, the windows opened for fresh air and I set about scrubbing mould off the walls with a brush and bleach. Oh, and a face mask long before they became standard issue…

Seeing this room (and all the others) completely stripped back was a bit of a shock in terms of how much can just lurk beneath the surface. The crazy patchwork of plasters, gypsum, patched-up cracks and mould made for a distinctly unappetising look. There certainly was a moment (or two, or more…) of “oh god, this is never going to come together”. I mean, I remember standing in those rooms, looking around and feeling completely overwhelmed by they way they looked. And the work that needed doing.

Of course leaving it all and running away wasn’t an option and luckily I didn’t have to do the work by myself. I mean, I do like some DIY, but this was wayyyy beyond my scope of expertise or abilities and completely out of my “don’t f*** it up” comfort zone. No, we were lucky to have an amazing team of local builders to help us. From restoring the floor boards, patching up bits of wall, ripping out old radiators and installing new ones, putting up plaster coving, painting walls, sanding the floors etc. I could not have done that without help. I mean, just getting from the image just above to the two below took so much time and effort from so many people! They say ‘ignorance is bliss’ and it certainly applies to this project because had we actually known what we’re letting ourselves in for, we probably wouldn’t have done it.

We also certainly could not have done it without the absolutely incredible help and trust from Bauwerk Colour who could not have been more helpful with this huge project. Knowing that nearly every room in the house had to be repainted, they helped so much with some of their beautiful paints. The reasons why I chose them were multiple. For a start, it was down to the many amazing choices of colours. I don't think I've seen another company offering lime paints with so many colour choices. Making up my mind to just have three (for a somewhat continuous thread throughout the house) was quite hard. Fortunately I knew in my mind what I wanted for this house, so that helped narrow it down. The other reason was that I knew this building needs to breathe. Since we had a lot of the downstairs rooms re-rendered and re-plastered with lime plaster, sticking any old emulsion paint on top of it would have been not only counter-productive, but also damaging to the new plaster. It had to be lime paints. And since the upstairs walls had suffered so much due to unsuitable materials and therefore lack of ventilation, lime paints were the only logical way to tackle that problem too.

The bedroom (as well as the dressing room opposite) was painted in Marrakesh, a soft pink that echoes what the Georgians would have had in their homes. Looking into the bedroom from the landing, the pink really complements the soft khaki of Kaolin. That, combined with white painted wood work gives it a look that is at the same time colourful and muted, classic and modern.

Ok, confession time: I only picked up the paint brush a couple of times to try out the paint colours on the walls. Since there was so much to do, so many walls and rooms to paint, we enlisted a decorator for the job. What I can say though is that if things hadn't been as pressured (in terms of timings) as they were, I would probably really have loved to paint more walls. I had tried some other paint samples before and none of them went on as beautifully as the Bauwerk Colour ones. The paint produces a really lovely and soft brush stroke texture on the walls which was exactly what I had been looking for. I mean, after all, I even told the plasterer to NOT smooth down the plaster completely...

Part of the bedroom walls that had been stripped off the wallpaper had a really nice patina, so I decided to keep two walls nearly "raw" and just have the paint colour blended in around the edges. I love the imperfect look that really does make this room feel like it's been here for 200 years, though I know that's not to everyone's taste...

With the coving up, walls painted and floor restored, it was time for the shelving in the alcoves. Just like in the living room, no two shelves were going to be the same here. That’s not down to me trying to be quirky or something, but rather down to the walls being crazy uneven with varying depths and all sorts of lumps and bumps. It all adds to the character. And, unfortunately, to the costs. Because each shelf had to be made to measure. Luckily our trusted and very experienced joiner was to hand. Will had already fitted our kitchen, done the living room shelves and many, many other things around the house, so of course he was the man to entrust with this job, too. With each shelf having been made from wood picked out at the sawmill, the progress, as you can imagine, was slow. But he got there eventually and the results were as wonderful as I had hoped.

All that was left to do now was to fit new skirting boards, the cast iron radiator, our ceiling light and curtain rail. But even all those “small” renovation bits seemed to take forever. Eventually though, we got there. The bones of the bedroom were there and they once again looked beautiful. The colours, coving, shelving, simple dark wood floor, white wood work, cast iron radiator…it was as if the puzzle had suddenly come together. Or at least the main part of it. Because, as I mentioned at the beginning, getting the room “just so” required all the finishing touches to be right too. The overall effect was to be one of casual, not-too-serious elegance. Rough walls and natural linen curtains combined with a heavy gold mirror and a velvet bed throw. Not too cluttered, not minimalist either. In my head it made complete sense. Until I couldn’t find the right mirror.

It wasn't until this year that I found "the one". Nearly a year of lockdowns clearly hadn't helped as I was unable to simply pop out to show rooms and antique fairs. In the end I decided to go for a baroque-style mirror I had found from a French online retailer. It wasn't 100% what I'd been after and a reproduction rather than an antique, but I had pretty much given up on finding exactly what I wanted. Besides, who knows when we'd be free to roam around antique shops again. Of course things didn't go to plan. Thanks to current troubles with regards to international trade, the delivery kept being pushed back! The promised 7-10 days ended up being 7-10 weeks! I'd resigned myself to another lengthy wait when I just happened to scroll through the website of The French House in York. And there it was! THE ONE! THE mirror I knew was perfect for that particular wall. I cancelled my order with the other company and purchased this one straight away. They even delivered it to my house on a Sunday, now that's customer service! Long story short: I love it!

And this is the result. FINALLY! We can finally relax and simply enjoy this room. It’s calming and casual. I love waking up here hearing the birds (yeah, that’s thanks to somewhat antiquated single glazing) in the morning. I’m at my calmest when every (or at least nearly every) detail is right and I do feel it in this room. I even love looking out through the door onto the landing with its pale khaki walls. The calming effect doesn’t stop at the door…

With HUGE THANK YOU to the following brands and companies for the collaborations and discounts:

BAUWWERK COLOUR (lime paints)

KATY PATY (switches and sockets)

CAST IRON RADIATORS LTD. (radiators)

Additional Thank You to WILLOWGREEN Estate Agents for kindly granting me permission to use their images.

Last time Monsieur and I went to London, I picked a large bag full of fresh quinces from Monsieur’s mum’s garden. They were just glorious! So big, firm and with a beautiful colour and their trademark uneven shape. There’s a reason why you’ll find quinces in so many Old Masters’ still lives and I’d happily photograph them all day long.

After getting them home, I decided to make some membrillo (quince cheese or paste, the stuff you can eat with actual cheese and that is just so good that I have to hide it from myself!) and jelly. I love the jewel-like quality of quince jelly in a jar. Especially when the sun hits it. And of course the sweetness and fruity-floral taste. And this is where the rose flavour comes into it. Rose and quince truly complement each other and work so beautifully together. The “recipe” is really quite easy, it just takes a little time and patience and a lot of sugar. Come to think of it, it’s not really so much of a recipe as an exercise in ratios. I don’t use a thermometer and the timings will depend a little on how much you’re making, so you will need to observe the colour and do the “jelly test” on a cold plate. There’s something quite nice and relaxing about working like that I have to say.

Ingredients:

• Quinces. Any number (and size) between 5 and 10

• Granulated sugar, 100g for each 100ml of quince juice

• 1/4 tsp of rose water for around 800ml of quince juice (or to taste, but be warned, rose water can easily overpower the delicate quince fragrance)

You will also need:

• a sharp knife

• a large pot

• a jelly bag, jelly strainer or large muslin cloth and conical sieve

• measuring jug

• kitchen scales

• 6 x 200ml jam jars

How it’s done:

• you don’t need to peel the quinces or core them as most the pectin is contained in the pips

• wash the quinces and rub them clean

• cut the quinces into around 1.5” chunks (just roughly, no need to get a tape measure out!)

• put all the chunks into a large pot

• cover with water plus roughly another inch more on top of that

• bring to a boil and then leave to simmer for an hour or until the quinces are really soft

• slightly mash up the quinces until you have something of a purée

• place your strainer over a large bowl

• now pour the purée into your strainer/muslin cloth & sieve

• cover and leave over night for the juice to slowly drip into the bowl

• the next day give the bag/cloth an extra squeeze to get as much of the juice out as possible

• preheat your oven to 140C

• wash out the jam jars with soapy water, then rinse thoroughly but do NOT dry them

• place the jars and lids onto a baking tray and place into the oven to dry NOTE: if the lids of your jars have rubber seals, you will need to place them into boiling water for sterilising as the dry heat from the oven can damage them

• I tend to keep the jars in the oven until the jam is ready to pour into them

• measure the juice and pour into a pot large enough to hold double the amount

• now weigh up the sugar at a 1:1 ratio, so 100g sugar for each 100ml of juice

• add the sugar to the juice and stir in

• add the rose water

• slowly bring the mix to a boil

• keep stirring it to make sure it doesn’t burn at the bottom and spoon of any scum from the top of the mix

• it will take around 30 minutes to become jelly like and to develop the lovely pink colour

• check the consistency by taking a little bit of the mix out and placing it onto a cold plate, then run your finger through it to check it has a little jelly-like “stretch”

• once ready, get the jars out of the oven and place them onto a kitchen towel

• now fill the jars with the hot jelly and put the lids on straight away

• leave to cool and set over night

• enjoy on fresh baguette or hot, buttered toast

I have listed the companies I collaborated with on this project at the end. These are companies that were kind enough to give me discounts and therefore helped enormously with the built. Just to clarify: I didn’t buy the products because of the discounts, but because I loved them, however, the savings were hugely helpful considering all the “surprises” we uncovered…

There are many things I could repeat from the last post because it did cover quite a lot about the overall renovations to give the whole story context, not just the living room. The fact that we envisaged a roughly 6-week renovation job when we bought the house but ended up with a major 9-months project which is still not 100% finished simply because everything stopped (the small jobs that needed to be finished) when the pandemic hit. The fact that instead of ripping off wallpaper and/or repainting walls, we had to have them stripped back to the bare bricks, have them re-rendered and re-plastered. The fact that everything was presented with a pretty and shiny veneer that proved to be one big lie once we scratched the surface and it all fell apart (some of it quite literally). I used some analogies in my last post that in my opinion perfectly described the whole house, décor, and approach of the previous owners. These are analogies commonly used about being more concerned with outward perceptions than the actual realities, and showing off without any substance. Whilst I make no apologies for what I’ve written, it didn’t come as a surprise that I received a reply about those analogies. Unfortunately I do believe that the point I was making went somewhat over that person’s head. The same that goes for the rest of the house goes for the kitchen: it doesn’t matter one bit what I think of the décor (and I’ll leave it to your own imagination to figure that one out) because that’s something that I would always expect to change when buying a house. What does matter is that when viewing a house you think you’re getting something of a very rough idea of how much work will be involved in turning it into your own home, you're making some ballpark figure calculations in your head around timings and costs for the renovations; you’re essentially taking things to an extent on face value. This becomes a huge problem when what you see whilst the property is dressed doesn’t square up at all with what you get once it’s naked and stripped of its pretty veneer. Don’t get me wrong, I know there will always be “surprises” when you’re buying a house, but the sheer amount and extent of those in this house was bordering on surreal.

Above then are the pictures as photographed by the estate agent and as we found it when we viewed it. Pretty respectable, a little dated in terms of style (fair enough, not my taste, but if you like it then that’s fine), very country kitchen with more than a hint of Cath Kidston. At this point I’d like to tell you about that year Monsieur gave me a lovely radio as a Christmas gift because he remembered that I’d seen “a flowery radio” which I really liked. It was a very kind thought which I truly appreciated, but nonetheless one that I had to remedy by taking the radio back to the shop for a swift exchange: he’d got a Cath Kidston version when the one I actually liked was the Orla Kiely one... Need I say more?

And this is what we found when we received the keys… Again, we obviously didn’t expect it to be super tidy and up to date, but there was a certain amount of “what the hell?!” when we inspected some of the details more closely. You might want to scroll through this gallery to appreciate what I mean by that. Bodge jobs, wrong materials, strange fittings… Luckily it was always clear the kitchen was going to go, so whilst somewhat annoyed, we decided to shrug it off with a massive eye roll. What we didn’t realise at the time was that there was of course worse to come. Of course…

Now, I need to clarify something here: all this was happening at the same time as the living room and, in fact, the rest of the house. So, we still, at that point, believed we were looking at a relatively straight forward renovation. As they say, ignorance is bliss - until you realise that said ignorance has lead to some serious mistakes. I had taken the measurements for the new base units for our kitchen and driven down to Loughborough to visit DeVOL Kitchens in their gorgeous showroom. I had measured again and again. From wall to wall. Not realising until the kitchen was eventually ripped out that there was a stud wall (scroll through the gallery to see it) that started above the previous worktop and went up to where the top units would have ended. It was utterly bizarre and also a complete pain because the measurements for the new kitchen had by then been put through the system and there was nothing I could do.

So here we were with the (nearly) empty shell of a kitchen. The old units were gone, the laminate flooring taken up and all electric appliances thrown out. Just as in the other rooms, it was then that we discovered the huge amount of dampness in the walls and just how much of a state it was really in. The tiles were yet to be removed, but that was truly the least of our problems. The kitchen was already on order and the tiler booked. But now we needed to have the brickwork exposed and re-rendered.

Since everything was being completely gutted, we decided to take down the ceiling to have the lights fitted exactly where we wanted them. What’s one more job when everything is falling apart anyway? Besides, I’ve always had a weird (admittedly very personal) thing about spot lights: I really dislike them. I don’t even know why… Anyway, we had no idea how lucky we were to have taken that step until our electrician took a closer look and discovered a complete jumble of lead-covered cables, some live cables that seemed to go nowhere and basically one big disaster in the shape of an electrical fire waiting to happen. With the the electrics fixed, re-routed and rewired and the new ceiling up and plastered, it was time to move onto the next part, the floor.

Now, I am fully aware that this isn’t the logical order. Nobody in their right mind would get the floor done before the plastering. However (!!!), remember how we never expected all this to be such a huge project? Well, I also never expected to be a novice project-manager! Whilst even I know that you don’t do the floor before the plastering, what I hadn’t accounted for (because I hadn’t accounted for the extensive works in the first place) is the fact that most tradespeople will be booked out months in advance and that when one lets you down you have two choices: carry on with the ones available or let the whole project grind to a halt. The tiler was booked and in my mind there was still hope that we’d move in before Christmas… There was only the “small” matter of prepping the floor for the tiles. This was probably the worst job Monsieur and I undertook ourselves. Days spent on our hands and knees scraping some sort of horrible foam backing from the concrete. And no matter how much we scraped, we just didn’t seem to get anywhere. In the end we didn’t have a choice but to use some pretty nasty chemicals to dissolve the foam and be able to then scrape it off.

The relief when Mark, our tiler, inspected the floor and decided it was finally good enough for the tiles to be laid was immense! And the excitement on my part was huge because it felt like something was finally coming together rather than being ripped apart. I always knew I wanted the kitchen floor to be really classic and look like it’s alway been there and had therefore chosen Dover White octagon tiles and Revival Grey squares from Original Style’s Victorian Floor Tile Collection. I knew the moment I saw the tiles on their website that they were absolutely perfect and exactly what I had been looking for. The “soft” white and warm grey along with the matt finish would give the floor the old-school look that could be mistaken for a 100-year old floor. And they would contrast beautifully with the more glossy look of the Winchester Porcelain Field Tiles I had chosen for the wall after seeing the sample. The glossy finish along with the uneven surface that softly reflects lights into all directions gives it a subtle but striking look which I love. And there was another factor that made the decision to go with them even easier: the fact that all the tiles are handmade in Exeter, Devon. It was important to me to source as many materials from within the UK in order to make the whole renovation as carbon friendly as I could because I do believe it’s important to support local industries. Working with Original Style on this was a real relief as they were so helpful and patient even as I was slightly losing the plot to the extent that I couldn’t tell my octagons from my hexagons. Truly, if you’re looking for gorgeous tiles, wonderful service, and made in the UK, then this is it.

Once the tiles had been laid, the entire floor was carefully covered up with large protective sheets to ensure it wouldn’t be damaged during the remaining works. When I say “remaining”, I mean the huge jobs of rendering the walls, wiring new cables for all the new electric sockets, installing the round boxes for the electric sockets and switches, fitting new pipes for the gas supply (the house used to be heated with oil, but we had a gas tank sunk into the garden instead) and the radiator, fitting coving, fitting the extractor… I knew I didn’t want a “normal” extractor hood because the ceiling isn’t particularly high and I figured it would look weird above the shelf. But I needed something… Which is where Will, our amazing joiner, came to the rescue with the best suggestion ever! A so-called inline extractor fan which would be fitted into the wall and therefore be as close to “invisible” as it gets. It was a solution that - combined with my idea of a beautiful brass grill - was absolutely perfect and I love the way it looks above the shelf without encroaching into the room.

Anyway, it was crazy just how much work there was to be done. I wanted to kitchen to be many things in one. Somewhat elegant, but unpretentious, a look that was inviting and warm, perfect for cooking and entertaining. And the walls played a huge part in my vision. I wanted them - just like the floor - to have a classic old-world look which is why we decided on Venetian plaster in a warm and pale ochre as well as the same beautiful plaster coving as in the living room (and other rooms in the house). I’m still absolutely in love with the texture and colour of the plaster set against the smooth, white coving. Getting to this result, however, was yet another story.

I had found what seemed to be the one and only company in the north that specialised in Tadelakt (a subject for another day when I come to the bathroom) and Venetian plaster. They surveilled the job (which included the rest of the house) and took it on. I started ordering haired mortar and render and plaster and everything that was needed. Then it all went downhill from there. From the very beginning, the plasterers didn’t turn up on the days they were supposed to. They started late and left early. Days turned into weeks and the delays were getting worse and worse because it all had a knock-on effect on other jobs. I was panicking. I had to stall and re-book the kitchen delivery several times. And in the end they went on holiday and never came back. They simply didn’t turn up at all anymore. It was an absolute nightmare and I truly felt by then that I was at breaking point. Any hope of moving in before Christmas had been crushed and I was preparing myself for a long, cold and very frustrating winter. Not to mention expensive because by the time our wonderful tiler Mark (who is actually a plasterer by trade) picked up where the other ones had left off, it was getting seriously cold and wet outside. That meant that in oder for the plaster to dry in an empty, old house, we had electric radiators and dehumidifiers running 24/7. For weeks. Ouch!

By the time the kitchen was finally at the stage for the units to be installed, it was nearly Christmas and six months into the renovations. And there was still so much left to do. And of course it wasn’t straight forward. Because there aren’t really any right angles in the kitchen, Will, the best joiner I could ever have hoped to have on this project, truly had his work cut out fitting the units as well as the 100kg limestone sink that had come from France. I had been absolutely adamant from the beginning that I wanted a trough sink because I love the natural stone, but also the fact that I can stand upright whilst washing vegetables. Hey, I’m not getting any younger…

Then there was of course still the worktop to be cut and fitted, the tiling on the wall to be done, the shelf to go up, the fitting of the lovely lights from Willow & Stone that had been sitting in our garage for far too long, as well as sockets and switches. The switches and sockets were another part of the renovations that I just wanted to get absolutely right. It had taken us a long time to find exactly what we were looking for because I really dislike UK sockets with their “on/off buttons”. I never understood them (just unplug your toaster if you’re that bothered!) nor liked the look of them. We finally found the most beautiful round porcelain toggle switches and round socket from Katy Paty Designs. I emailed them about samples and they were incredibly helpful and so nice to work with. As soon as I saw the samples I was sold. I decided on plain white sockets and switches around the kitchen units (including one switch to operate the extractor fan) and my favourite wood and porcelain turning switches and sockets next to the entrance. Take a look at Katy Paty’s designs on their website (link at the end of the post) and I’m sure you’ll understand why we just had to go with them. I truly believe that it’s usually the small details that will let you down, so getting this right was just as important as the rest of the project.

We finally took delivery of our dishwasher and fridge-freezer from Appliances Online and managed to move in in mid March. I always knew I didn't want the "built in" look for the kitchen, so it was a no-brainer for me to go with a freestanding dishwasher and fridge freezer. AO were very helpful and friendly and delivered right on time the day they said they would. This might seem like a small thing, but it does become huge after months and months of delays and setbacks.

There were still small things to be finished. I hadn’t managed to paint the window frames yet and the wood and glass cabinet hadn’t been hung up on the wall, instead it was still sitting on top of the cabinets. Little did we know then that these jobs wouldn’t be finished for a long time. A week after we moved in the pandemic-related lockdown took place. The fact that we even managed to move in just before it would have become impossible is in no small part thanks to “the dream team” of trades(wo)men we were lucky to have working with us. Having undertaken most of the “project management” by myself (Monsieur was still working in London until early 2020), these guys kept me just about sane when I was close to losing it on more than one occasion. Major thanks has to go to Will (WWW Joinery & Daughters ) who brought the team together, helped me manage some aspects and gave the best bear hugs when I was at my lowest.

And now we’re in October. Over a year after the whole saga started. The cabinet is annoyingly still not up on the wall since everybody has been absolutely booked out since the lockdown was lifted. After the specialist paint shop reopened, I finally managed to paint the window frames in the fabulous green taken from a small, vintage hand-held weighing scale (or whatever those are called). Whilst I’m fairly happy with the overall result, there are parts I wish I’d done differently. A lot of decisions were made too quickly in a sense. Because the renovations had never been planned this way, I was making decisions as they were in full swing and as and when we uncovered new problems. There’s a part of me that’s annoyed with myself for stumbling through it all instead of planning it all very carefully in advance, making sure everything truly is 100% as I want it. But doing that would have meant knowing what we were facing in the first place. Buying and setting out to renovate “a project” and knowing upfront that it might take a year or so would have meant that I would have considered certain things more carefully and taken more time to think them through. As it happened I did at times feel overwhelmed by the sheer amount of decisions that had to be made in relatively quick succession. There are things I’d have differently now. I miss my old scaffold shelving I used to have in our previous house for example and I’m now looking to replace the current shelf with it simply because it’s more me and because the current shelf just has too many hard and precise edges. The colour of the cabinets is just not right due to the light in the kitchen. Most of the time it tends to look very blue instead of the soft and muted grey I’d envisaged. So a re-paint is in order in a more fitting colour and with thick brush strokes that will give the kitchen even more of a lived-in feel.

I know this post is absolutely epic in terms of volume, but sometimes a story just cannot be told in a few sentences and it was important to me to share the whole long journey. Thank you so much for reading all the way through, I truly admire your tenacity and appreciate your patience!

PS: Make sure you scroll through to the bottom for more images of how it looks now and links to suppliers.

With HUGE THANK YOU to the following companies for the discounts and collaborations:

Original Style (floor and wall tiles)

DeVOL Kitchens (kitchen units)

Appliances Online (fridge-freezer & dishwasher)

KATY PATY (switches and sockets)

Willow & Stone (lights)

CAST IRON RADIATORS LTD. (radiator)

Additional Thank You to WILLOWGREEN Estate Agents for kindly granting me permission to use their images.

Of course things are nowhere near back to normal. Covid infection rates are still relatively high, transmission can happen anywhere and there is no vaccine. So why then would I head right back into a capital city when I could easily stay sheltered and holed up in our little village in the North Yorkshire countryside? Well, truth be told, there are several reasons and I do feel it’s important for me to share them. Because I have had a few reactions on the lines of “are you crazy?!” and whilst I’m not quite there yet (though Monsieur might contest that one…), I definitely felt I was going to go a little loopy if I didn’t get out…

As I mentioned and always stress, I’m very lucky to be living in a safe place, in a lovely home, and with beautiful surroundings I am able to safely explore. I’m not usually the most social person to begin with, so it all suits me more or less just fine. Until it didn’t. After months of seeing very few people from a safe distance only (a quick chat on the street with neighbours is pretty much all it amounted to), I started to notice that I did indeed miss people. Because even the most unsocial person does need human interaction and to see different faces - or at least I do. With home entertaining still not on the cards, the next best thing for me are anonymous crowds. I missed that feeling of immersing myself in a busy place, surrounded by strangers, and just soaking up the big city vibes. I need that feeling of liveliness around me, something that - for obvious reasons - was sorely missing during the lockdown. I know it’s a complete contradiction, being somewhat unsocial and simultaneously missing crowds, moving to a small village and at the same time craving anonymity, but I do take inspiration from observing people, from sitting in a café and watching the world go by, and from just seeing different faces whilst not necessarily having to interact with each person. Whilst I love the friendliness of countryside living, part of me also loves being surrounded by people who will simply ignore me and therefore leave me to get on with my thoughts and observations. Hey, I never claimed to have a straight-forward personality…

The strange thing is that the last couple of visits were, in terms of crowds, a little bit of a letdown. Because considering that this would be the height of summer and the tourist season, London was, in relative terms, empty. Nevertheless, my first visit freaked me out a bit since - and I put that firmly down to spending several months in lockdown - it felt like nobody was adhering to social distancing, people were just acting as if nothing had happened and I went into something of a health panic seeing danger everywhere. As I said, the crowds weren’t even particularly mad, not in usual London terms anyway, but people getting close or not wearing face masks on public transport just felt somewhat reckless after months of being inundated with safety messages and clearly spending way too much time at home and in my own head. Whilst part of me truly enjoyed being back, another part was terrified…

But I returned four weeks later for another visit and this time I felt more relaxed. Whilst I’m taking all possible and sensible precautions on safety (for my own sake and even more so for Monsieur’s who is on the vulnerable list due to permanent health conditions), I’m also not giving in to my fears. This is extremely important for me because I grew up with someone who saw and still sees danger everywhere and in everything and whose fears negatively impact on not only their own life, but everyone else’s around them. I have vivid memories of the way our lives were dominated by those fears when I grew up and am still to this day dealing with that behaviour. In turn, I’m hyper aware of my own conduct, thought processes, fears and phobias, and am always looking at ways to address and deal with them (unless it’s spiders, then I just run, sorry there’s a limit to how much I’m prepared to address!). Acting responsibly is one thing, letting fears control my life a whole different matter. Besides, during my last visit I felt even more strongly that this is actually a very good time to be in the capital as it simply isn’t as dangerously overcrowded as it would usually be.

Another, and far less complicated reason, is that I simply crave a change of scenery. No holidays abroad means most of us are more or less stuck in our surroundings, but swapping country life for a few days in the city provides me with just enough of an ambience change to recharge and reboot my creative batteries. It was at around three months into the lockdown that I started to really feel the pull of the city, that I thought I was going to go crazy if I didn’t get out there and into the midst of it. The architecture, the outwardly expressive people, street performers, markets, street food, all these are things that make up London are something I simply need to immerse myself in from time to time. Just as I need to wander around the moors, take a deep breath, clear my head and enjoy the stillness. Each has its time and place and sometimes I need one more than the other. Besides, London was my home for a decade, that’s not something you just brush off and forget, it becomes a part of you and your being. Old neighbourhoods, familiar places, friends, it’s not like London and I had a bad breakup, so it would be strange to never want to return at all, wouldn’t it?

Being able to wander around, camera (or iPhone) in hand and just take pictures of buildings, people and life has felt like such a happy rush, this post then is as much about my very personal reasons for returning to London as it is about wanting to share some photos with you. These are shots that would most probably not be possible under normal circumstances. There’s an eery feel about it all and it does feel like London has lost a little of its soul. After all, it’s the people that bring a city to life. But I’m sure in time it will bounce back and I’ll have my suitcase packed ready for another visit. I hope you like the images and would be really curious to know your thoughts on traveling and keeping safe.

What to do with those plums then? Since there weren’t enough to make jam, I decided to make a tart (and another one the next day) as a nice treat. The simplest, yet most delicious tart. Again, as I probably mention in every single recipe post: good food doesn’t have to be complicated. I’m simply not a fan of recipes that call for 25 obscure spices and overwhelm the palate. All you need is a few good ingredients to let their flavours shine. Here then my super easy plum tart recipe. Just in time for the weekend.

Ingredients:

• 500-600g fresh plums

• 200g gluten free plain flour

• 100g vegan spread + extra for greasing the tart form

• 1 large egg

• 75g demerara sugar + extra for sprinkling

• 2 large eggs

How it’s done:

• put the flour into a large bowl

• add the vegan spread in small clumps (cold butter is definitely easier to cut into cubes!)

• “slice” through the flour and spread with a knife to roughly mix the two

• using your hands, carefully combine the two further until you have a crumbly consistency

• make a well in the middle and add the egg

• work the egg into the mix without overworking it

• form the dough into a ball

• wrap in clingfilm and put into the fridge for at least half an hour

• wash the plums, de-stone and quarter them

• preheat your oven to 190C (fan)

• grease the tart form

• take the dough out of the fridge and roll it out ON THE FLATTENED CLINGFILM (the gluten free flour makes it a little crumblier than standard flour which can in turn make it tricky to transfer the rolled-out dough into the tart mould)

• lift the rolled out dough with the clingfilm and turn it into the tart form gently pressing it down

• arrange the plum quarters on top of the dough

• whisk up the remaining two eggs, add the sugar and whisk again

• spoon the mix over the plums

• sprinkle some more sugar on top

• bake for 30-35 minutes

• enjoy slightly warm or cold, on its own or with some ice cream

Aside from the many items I’ve bought over the years, there are pieces that were thoughtful gifts but never see the light of day. One of those pieces is the ring above. Three small diamonds set atop a gold band, this ring was a gift from my mum when my son was born. Unfortunately, as much as I treasured it, I’ve never worn it. It simply wasn’t me. It didn’t look right on my hand, didn’t suit my skin tone (I tend to wear mostly silver, though if you want to send some platinum pieces my way, I’m game…), and didn’t work with any of my other rings. It was stuck in a tiny jewellery box and destined to remain there ‘til the end of days. Or so I thought. I never in a million years would have guessed that moving to the North Yorkshire countryside would bring a beautiful solution to this “problem”.

Since moving up here, I have been lucky enough to meet some wonderful people. Amongst them is Susanna, a fellow immigrant (from Austria) and creative who just happens to live close by. What are the chances? We have over the past year become good friends and it so just happened that one sunny afternoon, over a (socially distant) glass of chilled rosé or two, we talked about her craft as a jeweller. Susanna told me about how she creates pieces from scratch and occasionally gets commissioned to recycle an old piece into something more to the owner’s liking. And this is when I started thinking about my own ring and the possibility of having it recycled into something I would not only treasure on an emotional level, but also actually wear.

But I wasn’t thinking about the ring alone. My thoughts went on to the process, the making, the workshop. Because one of my passions as a photographer is to capture creative workspaces, creatives immersed in their work, the process of creating. I asked Susanna if she’d allow me to visit her at her workshop to take some pictures of her making my ring and she agreed.

We discussed the design (I had a good idea of what I wanted loosely based on a ring I had seen on her Instagram account) that would combine both our aesthetics and make use of the three diamonds as well as the gold band. A few days after dropping off my ring, I visited Susanna at her workshop where she’d already started the work. In fact, she had more than started, I could already see what the ring would eventually look like. And I was able to try it on to make sure it would fit me. There’s something truly special about seeing and trying the “raw” piece. I could see the size, design, the overall look, but being in the unfinished state, it really brought home the feeling of this being a one-off, handmade piece.

I loved observing Susanna working. The concentration, the tiny details, the careful heating up of the silver without melting it completely. To me, being able to watch all this feels like a real privilege. And again, I know I’m repeating myself here, but witnessing the making of my ring was pretty special. I couldn’t wait to see the end result!

A few days later Susanna hand delivered the ring to me. Now that’s service! And here it is! The finished ring. Exactly as I’d imagined it and even better in real life. The shiny silver strands, the size, the incorporated gold band and diamonds. It suits my hand, my skin tone, and my overall style. I love it! And importantly, my mum does, too. Because I had asked for her “permission” before embarking on this remodel as it seemed like the right thing to do.

What do you think?

Btw, this is not an advertisement, I paid the normal price for my ring. I just wanted to share the work of an amazing creative.

If you're interested in Susanna's work, you can check out her website here: Susanna Hanl

PS: If you've come here from my Newsletter (Thank You!), I KNOW I've missed out the apostrophe on "jeweller's", but I'd hit "send" before noticing it. This will now forever haunt me because I'm usually such a stickler when it comes to the correct use of apostrophes... ;-)

It’s been a very, very long journey and there are still many parts that have yet to be covered. Bits and pieces we simply haven’t been able to finish due to, well, a world-wide pandemic. All along, I wanted to wait it out, wait for everything to be finished, perfect, “just so”, before sharing the results. I also struggled to “see” the angles. It’s a strange thing, I can see an image in someone else’s home straight away, but I suppose when it’s so personal, there’s a huge amount of emotion involved in how we see a space which makes it a little more tricky. And then there’s the ever changing light! Because the living room has one north-facing and one south-facing window, the light seems to constantly change. Again, I’m trying to find the right time, angle, light, brightness…the ever elusive perfection…

But then I started to come to terms with the fact that even though things might not be 100% in my eyes, it’s still a major result. Especially when considering that we had expected a roughly 6-week long renovation job, but ended up doing a 9-months full-on gut and restoration which included walls being stripped of render, some ceilings coming down (one of them pretty much without any external “help”!), floors being pulled up, stair banisters being replaced, a completely new heating system being installed...

Moving in (by the skin of our teeth!) one week before lockdown has given us a chance to a) count our lucky stars and b) get to know the house as a home, unpack boxes and arrange furniture. So whilst we’re still missing a fire surround in the living room, a glass cabinet is yet to be hung up in the kitchen and the dishwasher to be properly installed, the dining room hasn’t quite developed into the final vision, and the guest bedroom(s) are only half finished, I’m fairly at ease to now start sharing the renovation stories of our house. And, to put in in the immortal words of Pulp, I had to start somewhere, so I started there.

Let’s go back to around 16 or so months ago when we viewed what was to be our future house. I obviously didn’t walk around in someone else’s home with a camera, so the before images here (you can scroll through the gallery, I figured this would make more sense than stuff this post with too many large images) are all curtesy of Willowgreen Estate Agent in Malton.

As you can see, whilst none of it is exactly to my taste and it had a distinct air of “80s Laura Ashley chintz meets Hyacinth Bucket”, it all looked fairly respectable and well kept. I mean, it was clear that the yellow wall colour was going to go along with the hideous reproduction fireplace (the owner did tell me it’s an original, clearly thinking I have “idiot” written all over me!) and the beige carpets, but that’s the kind of thing I would always expect when buying a house.

The vision we had was to take the house back to something similar to what it would have been when it was built. A simpler, pared-back look fitting for a Georgian property with a hint of “unfinished rustic-ness” (think bare wood and textured walls) as well as elegant details like plaster coving and round porcelain toggle light switches and sockets. There were of course to be some items that were a little more modern (shelving in the alcoves for example), but the overall idea was to give it back some of the Georgian feel with some French touches like the reclaimed chevron wood flooring and ornate cast iron radiators.

I spent hours, days and weeks searching for and sourcing all the right pieces. The coving that had to be exactly the right design with the right proportions. The fire surround for the dining room was made to my own design in Yorkshire stone. Each radiator chosen to suit the different rooms in sizing, colour and design. It all seemed like such a straight forward plan. What we hadn’t expected was what we found when we peeled off the relatively thin and glossy veneer of “respectable decor” and found the ugly truth that was lurking beneath. The truth that was to throw a major spanner into our works. Looking back at it now, a (I believe) Scottish saying springs to mind: “All fur coat and no knickers”.

It was June 2019, when the renovation works started. Monsieur was still living and working in London at that point (and would remain there until January 2020), so it was mostly down to myself to organise the renovations, hire the relevant tradespeople and overlook the works. The works we believed would take maybe 6 weeks. After all, it all looked fairly tidy… When emptied out, however, it already transpired that we might have a little more work to do than originally anticipated. On closer inspection, it turned out that the walls were covered with old lining paper that had been painted over more than once and was consequently somewhat bulging away from the walls. The areas above the windows where the pelmets had been looked like a veritable Swiss Gruyère, clearly some sort of bodge-job. Never mind, that can be filled and sanded. Then there was all the black soot from the fireplace that was suddenly visible on the walls as well as on the carpet. And still, whilst somewhat taken aback by how much the basics had been neglected, we naively assumed that this was the worst and we could deal with it. We even went as far as having the fireplace ripped out and a wood burner installed first because we assumed that was to be the messiest job. Oh, were we in for a shock…

So first came the wood burner. We knew the living room was always going to have one as we loved the one we had in our last house and the way it kicks out heat is a feature even more important in North Yorkshire than in London. Since Gary, the very friendly stove installer, had been booked in way ahead of time and finding a good one who is also available isn’t that easy, he was one of the first people on the scene. Remember, we were still blissfully unaware of the horrors underneath the wallpaper at that point, hence we ended up with a fully functioning wood burning stove before ripping everything else around it apart after it had been installed. Yes, my “project management” skills were not only put to an extremely thorough test, but I became very quickly and painfully aware of my complete lack of experience in that area. In my defence though, I never purposefully signed up for all this, one thing just led to another and here I was…

Since Monsieur wasn’t able to be on site and a lot of the works were beyond my skill as well as efficiency levels (let’s face it, I’d take three days to strip one wall off wallpaper where professionals can do three rooms in the same time) we hired tradespeople for most jobs. It was then, when the wallpaper came off in the living room, that we started to get an idea of just what was ahead of us. We had been told that there was a little dampness in the walls, but never did we expect to find them to actually be wet! Those old stone walls were water-logged behind the plaster. We had done some research and fairly quickly found out that rendering Georgian stone walls with modern gypsum is a recipe for disaster. Old stone walls need to breathe in order to remain “healthy” and modern materials are made to be pretty much waterproof and air-tight. That means that any water that was rising up into the walls from the ground ( pretty normal) had nowhere to go. Add to that the secondary glazing that had been installed (and which we ripped out in all the rooms!) and you have an old building that is supposed to breathe being suffocated. At the time, we didn’t even realise that the living room was one of the better rooms. Water-logged walls, mould on walls and ceilings (cleverly hidden under wallpaper!), rotten joists that needed replacing, it was all there. That meant the render had to come off. And this is where the big works started. The rubble, dust, skips full of rotten wallpaper, plaster and render. It was gut-wrenching.

The overall vision, however, remained. It was “just” a case of having to have far far more work done before that vision could come to life. Dealing with the old stone walls, we decided to have the walls covered with traditional, haired lime mortar and rendered with lime plaster. This would ensure breathability in the future. I believe we had all-in-all around 5 tonnes of lime mortar delivered. Ouch! Since everything was being ripped out anyway, we decided to have the radiators moved to exactly where we wanted them. That meant that channels had to be dug into the concrete floor in order to lay new pipes. There’s something strangely unsettling about seeing bare earth in your living room. Of course all of this took a huge amount of time since it wasn’t done room-by-room, but we had people working in multiple rooms at any one time as well as the garden where we had a gas tank sunk in, as there’s no mains gas supply up here, and the garage where a completely new boiler and heating system was being installed to replace the completely knackered ancient one. But back to the living room for now.

To give you an idea of the timeline, we are by now in mid February 2020. And yes, we started in June the previous year and my patience was by now wearing extremely thin. With the walls re-plastered, the coving installed, the radiator pipes laid, the pipe channels filled up with concrete and the floor prepped, we were able to finally have the walls painted. Since the walls had been lime plastered, normal emulsion was out of the question as it would have impacted on the breathability of the walls and rendered the plaster useless. We needed lime paints. I already knew of Bauwerk Colour since I follow them on Instagram, so decided to order some sample pots. I immediately loved the way the paint went onto the walls and the washed and textured effect they created. I had tried another company’s paint, but wasn’t convinced by the consistency of the paints or their very limited choices of colours. Bauwerk Colour has so many incredible colours I loved that making up my mind which one to go for was a really tough decision. Since we were going to paint a major part of the house with those paints, I was very lucky to be able to collaborate with Bauwerk on this project. I chose three colours which I believe work for the building as well as our personal taste. Stone, a very light and soothing grey-ish beige-ish off-white for the living room, hall and study. Kaolin, which is a pale khaki and slightly moodier for the dining room and landing. And Marrakesh, a muted pink with a slightly more feminine touch for our bedroom and the dressing room. The combination of textured lime plaster and Bauwerk paints gave me exactly the kind of elegant-rustic result I had hoped for and the colours seem to change slightly throughout the day and with the light which gives the interiors extra life.

Next was the flooring. With 60 sqm of individual chevron pieces piled up in our dining room, it was finally time for it to be put down. I won’t talk about the one truly horrific experience with one of the tradesmen because overall everybody had been brilliant. Let’s just say that particular individual did not get to finish the job. Our choice. In fact, had Monsieur left me to it at that point, that person would have been gone by day two. Monsieur is clearly a little softer than me in that respect, but - in my defence - after 7 months on the building site, my tolerance and patience levels had been reduced to non-existing.

Anyway, the flooring in the living room was going down followed by the hall, dining room and study. All in the same beautiful wood. I did like it in its “raw” state already, but a couple of coat of oil truly made it. I had known all along that this was the perfect flooring for the space, but seeing it come together after such a long time was like finding the holy grail.

Walls done, flooring done, new skirting boards up (I painted 147m of skirting boards…just sayin’), now it was time for the remaining details. Seeing the ornate cast iron radiators going in was another highlight. Again, I knew that the green would work beautifully with the wood floor and the textured walls, but seeing it all come together after such a long time was actually quite emotional. All the radiators for the house came from Cast Iron Radiators Ltd., a local North Yorkshire company who even sent someone round to survey each room and talk through choices, sizing and designs. When doing such a big project, it really helps to be able to have someone on board who has actually seen the property and know what they’re talking about because at some point I found myself close to unable to make anymore decisions about even the smallest things. Luckily the radiators had been sorted early on.

Another thing I had sourced fairly early on was the sockets and light switches. We knew we didn’t like the standard UK style sockets with their on/off buttons. I’m afraid to say that UK sockets in general are possibly the ugliest ones I have ever seen. I also never understood the on/off buttons. A table lamp I’ll switch off, a toaster is only in use, well, when in use. I can also simply unplug something if I’m that worried. So no, I didn’t want any of those. It still took a lot of searching to find just the right ones though. And then we found KATY PATY switches and sockets. Based in Prague (I’ve now discovered they now have UK showrooms), all communication was done via email and I had samples sent to me first of all. It was love at first sight and we knew these were the switches and sockets for our home. Round, glossy porcelain, the right colours (we opted for black, white, lucidum - a café au lait kind of colour, and wood/white for the kitchen), they were perfect for the overall look of the house. I’m still smiling every time I turn a light on or off…

Last, but by no means least, the shelving for the alcoves needed to be done. Nothing in this house is perfectly straight and the alcoves are no exception. With varying widths and depths, each self had to be cut to size and getting “off the shelf” ones (no pun intended) wasn’t going to work. Luckily we had our wonderful joiner Will to come to the rescue by suggesting we go to a local sawmill and get the wood for the shelves there. That means that we got to literally pick the wood for each shelf and each one fitted perfectly. And of course we got exactly the look we were after.

If you’ve made it to here, congratulations! I did say it was going to be epic. Looking back at it all now, I can (nearly) smile about a lot of the ups and downs, mishaps and adventures involved. That doesn’t mean that I’d ever want to undertake such a project again, but I know I can do it - even if it was enormously stressful and I wanted to throw in the towel more than once. I smile thinking about Mark the plasterer wanting to smooth out every last bit of lime plaster to the point where I had to nearly shout at him to stop. He told me he wouldn’t put his name to what he felt was a half-finished job, haha. We’re still on good terms, no worries. I had to explain to Will the joiner how I wanted the shelves to look “perfectly imperfect and organic” rather than super-straight with hard edges. And Adam our electrician learned a whole new skill fitting slightly more fragile porcelain switches and sockets without breaking them.

Being able to enjoy our home and surroundings has obviously proven to be a huge privilege over the past few months and we couldn’t be more grateful that we’ve managed to somehow get nearly everything done to “near perfection”. Near perfection being a good thing and meaning that even if I could have the perfectly polished home, I wouldn’t actually want it. I always get a slightly unsettled feeling when things are too perfect - as if I’m a visitor in my own home. A slightly dishevelled, lived-in and unpretentious look has always been more to my liking and makes me feel right at home.

With HUGE THANK YOU to the following brands and companies for the collaborations and discounts:

BAUWWERK COLOUR (lime paints)

KATY PATY (switches and sockets)

CAST IRON RADIATORS LTD. (radiators)

Additional Thank You to WILLOWGREEN Estate Agents for kindly granting me permission to use their images.

Anyway, I’m not actually here to tell you about the sunshine, but to share this cherry clafoutis recipe. Monsieur had bought some cherries and I knew straight away what I wanted to do with them. But, as usual, it had to be gluten-free and dairy-free to be suitable for his dietary needs. I hadn’t intended on sharing it, but since I had the pics I took along the way for the fun of it, I figured “why not?”. Apart from proper “results photos”. We sat down for dinner and had part of the clafoutis for dessert. And I wasn’t going to go into a big styling session just for some photos just as I hadn’t for the other ones since they’re mainly images I simply saw whilst preparing the bake. So a shot of a half-eaten clafoutis will have to do I’m afraid…sorry. Maybe the pretty flowers make up for it?

Ingredients:

• 600g fresh cherries, de-stoned

• 4 eggs, beaten

• 50g self-raising, gluten free flour

• 50g ground almonds

• 60g caster sugar

• 200ml oat milk

• 40g vegan spread, melted, plus some for greasing the form

• 1 pinch of salt

• 1/2 tsp almond extract

How it’s done:

• preheat your oven to 210C

• if you haven’t already, wash and de-stone the cherries

• grease a 25cm tart form with some vegan spread

• arrange the cherries in the form

• melt the 40g of vegan spread in a small pan over a low heat

• mix the flour, ground almonds, sugar and salt in a large bowl

• add the beaten eggs, milk slowly whilst whisking them into the mix

• add the melted spread and almond extract and beat until you have a smooth batter

• now pour the batter over the cherries

• put the form in the oven and bake for 10 minutes

• now turn the oven down to 180C and bake for a further 20 minutes

• once done, leave to cool a little before serving either warm or cold

With the lockdown officially eased in the UK, I wanted to attempt to take a look back at this strangest of times and try to make some sort of sense of it all. I don’t think the underlying cause of the situation is resolved by any stretch of the imagination or that we’re in any way “safe” yet, but in terms of timelines, I suppose this is a turning point of sorts. The fact that this is a retrospective post says a lot. I could have written a daily diary, I could have written something profound every day in order to have a collection of words at the end of this strange time. Maybe I could have used my time really well and written a novel (even though that’s never been something I felt I needed to do), but I didn’t. Instead I went numb, lost all sense of direction and felt mostly paralysed by the situation. The proverbial rabbit caught in the headlights.

After living up here in North Yorkshire for nearly a year and overseeing the major renovations of our house for nine months, we finally moved into our new (old) home on Friday 13th March. Yes, Friday the 13th… Of course we already knew back then that something was up. Other countries were going into lockdown, there was already widespread talk of the pandemic and people as well as businesses were starting to get more than a little uneasy, but the government hadn’t yet announced an official lockdown for the UK. That happened ten days later, on the 23rd. Did we thank our lucky stars that we managed to move in in the nick of time? Oh yes we did, over and over and profusely so! Or at least I did, Monsieur is somewhat more pragmatic than me and would have coped either way I suppose…

We busied ourselves unpacking boxes and making our new house a home and I tried to relish the first couple of weeks of being able to completely concentrate on our home. However, there was immediate heartache because the total lockdown meant I was unable to travel to London to pick up my son. As a mother, it was heartbreaking to have to make the decision to abide by the rules and consider the potentially serious ramifications if I was to bring him to our small village. I’m still struggling to come to terms with that decision as my head and my heart fight it out. The guilt and feeling of having let my child down is immense. These were the instant issues, the overall uneasy and far less tangible feelings set in later once the literal dust had settled and been hoovered away.

There were small niggles (I’m deliberately calling them “niggles”, not problems, because I’m acutely aware of how privileged we are compared with so many other people), things in the house that had been left unfinished with now no idea as to when they might be completed. With no safe way for tradesmen to work in our now occupied house, jobs had to be simply left as they were. It was frustrating, especially since I was itching to take images, to share the results of the lengthy renovations, to thank the numerous companies who helped me with this project. Sharing something that wasn’t quite done, not quite right, not as it should be, however, felt like a betrayal towards the companies that have been involved and a half-arsed attempt to just publish something, anything, for the sake of it. When I share the results, I want things to be perfect. Or perfectly imperfect, because I don’t like interiors that are actually perfect. But it still nevertheless has to be “just so”. Which wasn’t and still isn’t the case.

So I’ve been waiting it out in the contradictory states of frustration and resignation, restlessness combined with an inability to move, the feeling of wanting to do something, anything, and yet simultaneously staring at the walls, my mind drawing blanks. Then more guilt set in. The guilt that I still hadn’t shared the results of the renovations, the guilt that I hadn’t done a daily photoshoot even if it is just for the sake of it, the guilt that I hadn’t come up with an exciting new business venture, the guilt that my freelance work had come to a halt because it looked like other people still managed to attract gigs, so, obviously, it must be my own fault…

I tried to distract myself from those feelings of being lost, of loss, of grief, of failure. Monsieur occasionally (metaphorically speaking) kicked my butt and we went for walks even when I didn’t feel like it. Being able to do that and being surrounded by nature by simply stepping outside our front door is a huge privilege. The fresh air helped, at least to an extent. I’ve discovered that I hate “going for a walk”. It’s this strange feeling that I’m putting one foot in front of the other for a couple of hours whilst literally having walked in a circle, or worse, going back on myself: to me the very definition of a useless pursuit (yes, I know, exercise and all that…). There’s a reason why “going round in circles” is a metaphor for not having achieved anything. However, I do like “going out to collect wild garlic”, “going out to take photos”, “going out to pick wild flowers”. So I’d give myself a task, no matter how small, whenever we went for walks.

On good days I baked and cooked, I would send out emails to people and companies who might be interested in the work I am able to do (and always have done) remotely and, crucially, without personal contact. I would do some gardening and small jobs around the house. On other days making toast seemed like too much of a hurdle to overcome. I wanted to read all those books I hadn’t read yet, but couldn’t concentrate long enough. I would read a page, my mind would drift and I’d have to re-read it because I couldn’t remember a thing. More guilt because I couldn’t even do that properly!

Things are being eased now, but we don’t actually feel any more at ease. Neither of us will be rushing out to large shops any time soon, to an overcrowded beach (not that we’d usually sit on an overcrowded beach anyway, it’s just not our thing), let alone jump on a plane, as we’re still extremely weary of the potential risks. We do occasionally drive a few more miles for a change of scenery and to go for walks in the moors and I realise how much I’d missed those places. I’ve slowly started to take pictures of the presentable parts of our house and I’ve taken to nature photography in my own way. I’m still trying to adapt to the fact that this current situation might remain with us for some time. And I wonder if our brains might struggle more with the unknown and uncertain than they would with an extreme situation with a definite endpoint in sight. A fixed point in time where things will return to normal (whether our ‘normal’ is actually desirable is a different question).

I’m hugely grateful for the privilege of living in a nice house in a beautiful and rather safe part of the country. Monsieur and I have not had any major arguments despite spending pretty much 24 hours a day together for the past three months. And I am, possibly for the first time, also grateful for the fact that I’m very much a homebody and introvert who likes her own company at the best of times. I’m fairly certain that personality trait has meant that the lack of contact with the outside world hasn’t affected me as much as it might have other people and I’m certainly not missing any events where I might be required to make smalltalk with strangers. I do, however, miss meeting friends over coffee, having a few friends round for dinner, cooking for people, and lively discussions around the dinner table over a bottle of wine or two…

They say hindsight has 20/20 vision, but I’m not quite certain I’ve reached any more clarity even with the benefit of looking back at the past three months from the safe comfort of my home. We often tend to berate ourselves and claim that if we were to go back, we’d do things differently. But, in this particular instance, I’m not so sure. Because the whole situation felt very passive to me and like something completely out of my control, like the world stood still and I had no choice but to wait for it to begin spinning again. What would I have done differently? Well, in order to do something drastically different in such an unprecedented situation, I believe I might require a complete change in personality and internal workings. That’s not saying that I’m not responsible for my own (re)actions, but simply that I’m still at a loss over it all. And that feeling might remain for some time yet.

This then brings me to this post! Because I’ve been experimenting with a recipe for a gluten-free, dairy-free almond and apricot cake. The upside down was more by accident than design since the apricots in the very first cake had sunken to the bottom of the tin. So I went with it and decided to deliberately place them there. It may not be the prettiest cake and - if viewed from above - resemble a pepperoni pizza, but it honestly tastes just really good. Also, the sharpness of the apricots pairs extremely well with the mellowness of the almonds. Anyway, here’s the recipe.

Ingredients:

• 8-9 fresh apricots

• 2tbsp soft brown sugar

• 2tbsp brandy

• 125g vegan spread (I used PURE sunflower spread which seems to work well)

• 150g caster sugar

• 2 large eggs

• 100g gluten-free, self-raising flour (I used Dove’s Farm)

• 100g ground almonds

• 150g tinned coconut milk, if possible the thick parts only

How it’s done:

• preheat your oven to 190C

• grease a 20cm round, loose-bottom tin and line with baking paper

• cut the apricots into halves and remove the stones

• put the apricots cut side down into a pan, add the brown sugar and brandy

• over a medium heat, bring the apricots to a simmer whilst swirling the pan around a little to prevent the apricots from sticking

• once the fluid has nearly gone, turn the heat off and turn all the apricots around

• leave to cool whilst preparing the batter

• put the spread and sugar into a mixer bowl and whisk until pale and fluffy

• add the eggs one at a time and mix for a couple of minutes between each

• now add the flour and fold it into the mixture making sure it’s all smooth

• add the ground almonds and fold those into the mix

• now add the coconut milk and, again, fold into the mix

• put the apricots cut side down into the well-greased baking tin

• pour the batter over the apricots and smooth down a little

• bake the cake for about 55 minutes

• turn the oven off and leave to cool for another 30 minutes in the oven

• take the cake out of the oven, remove the ring of the tin and leave to cool completely

• once cooled, turn the cake onto a plate ready for serving

• enjoy with a nice dessert wine or a cup of coffee ;-)

Bon appétit!

Badly warped lining paper and 80s wallpaper that had been painted over in a haphazard way. A leaking bathroom that has caused so much damage to the room below that if we don’t take the ceiling down, it will come down on its own at some point not too far in the future. Damp walls made worse by a layer of cement-style (sorry, I’m not quite an expert - yet) plastering which has locked the moisture in. A stair banister that is so low and wobbly that just half a bottle of Merlot might potentially prove fatal. A “fake” stud wall in the kitchen that absolutely nobody saw coming until the kitchen had been ripped out and that meant the design of the new kitchen had to be altered at the last minute. The list seems endless and we not only have our work cut out, but also need to find the money for way more work than expected.

And yet, amidst all of the chaos, dirt, dust, headache, worries and what at times feels like an overwhelming feeling of sheer despair (mainly because getting all the builders in on schedule is like herding cats!), there’s something of a poetic beauty in the building as it is right now. Peeling back and stripping out all the 80s chintz and shiny brass, the thick carpets, the pink (not in a good way!) tiles and cheap laminate has revealed the bones of the building and some original flooring. At first glance it does all look like a complete mess (actually, it really is!), but looking closer I found a wealth of beautiful textures and details. It feels like the old building (the house is over 200 years old) is breathing a sigh of relief at being rescued from layers and layers of unsuitable decor. I imagine in my head that it feels the same way I did when (back in the day) I had to dress up in a way that felt so uncomfortable, restrictive and “not me” for my office job(s) and the relief I felt when I got home and could discard that “costume”.

As you will have noticed by now, this post isn’t a typical “renovations diary” or anything as exciting as a big before/after reveal as I’ll reserve that one for when I actually have an “after” to show! No, this is a quiet observation. This is about looking beyond the obvious and finding the beauty in what at first glance looks like a crumbling mess. It’s quite a personal post for several reasons: I actually really love all those textures and will probably print some of the images out to then hang them in the house once it’s all done (I’ll call it abstract art, darling). These images will one day be a lovely reminder of how far we have come with the renovations. I wanted to capture something different with my camera, something that “just is” and hasn’t been deliberately created. I guess I’m somewhat tired of seeing perfectly setup images all around me on social media. It’s as if everybody is trying to create and build the perfect image, the fantasy, the thing thats sells, and forgetting to actually look around and explore what is already there. But that’s a whole different subject for another post…

My current circumstances are something like this then: I’m in a house that isn’t mine (until we finally get the keys to our own house) with a 30-year-old electric cooker that seems to suffer from age-related performance issues. Monsieur is mostly in London because he’s still working there for the time being whilst I’m getting our house ready and the business set up. Whilst I’m starting to meet a lot of really lovely people in and around our village, I’m not quite set up for dinner parties just yet (see the point about the house and cooker). That means a lot of cooking for one right now. Which I don’t mind because I can experiment with small portions and I can just throw a few things together to see how they work. Or I can have cereal for dinner on the sofa…(I don’t really, I don’t even have cereal for breakfast!). The point is, the three “non-recipe recipes” here are all ideas I came up with because I figured they’d work well for one, the quantities can easily be tailored to more people joining and they don’t require exact measurements of anything really. Just “add to taste” sums all of these up. One savoury dish for lunch or dinner, one breakfast treat, one to go in the pantry for future use. I hope you like them and find them easy, fun and tasty.

Grilled asparagus with feta & chive flowers (can be eaten warm or cold):

• 1 bunch asparagus

• 1/4 feta cheese (around 50g)

• 1-2 tbsp breadcrumbs

• chopped chives and whole chive flowers

• lemon zest

• olive oil

• a little pepper

• brush a cast-iron griddle pan with some olive oil and heat until really hot

• add the asparagus and grill until soft and you have slight char marks on all sides

• place the asparagus on a plate

• now crumble the feta over it, scatter the chopped chives, bread crumbs, lemon zest and chive flowers

• add a small grinding of pepper

• drizzle with olive oil and you’re ready to serve it

Chive flower vinegar:

• 1, 2 or 3 bottles of white wine vinegar - depending on how much you’d like to make

• as many chive flowers as you can harvest, at least 10-15 for each bottle

• gently heat up the vinegar until just below boiling and then take straight away off the heat

• put the chive flowers into a colander and gently wash them with cold water to remove dirt and bugs

• shake excess water off the flowers

• put the flowers into the vinegar bottles or jam jars

• now pour the hot vinegar over the flowers

• seal the bottles/jars and leave to steep for at the very least 48 hours but 2 weeks would be better

• you now have a beautifully fragrant vinegar for your next vinaigrette

Sweet & salty strawberry breakfast crumpets:

• crumpets (1-2 per person)

• salted butter

• strawberries

• honey

• fresh thyme

• lightly toast the crumpets

• butter each crumpet

• slice the strawberries and place on top

• now drizzle with honey

• scatter some fresh thyme leaves on top

• enjoy for breakfast on a sunny morning

You might be unaware of this, but at the beginning of April I moved from London to rural North Yorkshire. A big change! Monsieur and I wanted a complete lifestyle change, fresh air, less of the stress that comes from constant noise pollution and the crazy (if not always unpleasant) buzz of the big city. Now I’m trying to find my feet “up here”. At the time of typing I’m still in our “interim home”, but - after many hiccups - the contract for our new (very old, actually) home should come through any day now. We are hugely privileged to be able to stay in this house that belongs to Monsieur’s family since we sold our London house way quicker than expected and would otherwise have had to rent short term and then - once we complete on our new home - move into a building site. As it stands, we are able to stay in a comfortable home whilst completing all the renovation works. It does, however, have some small drawbacks. Mainly the fact that the house hasn’t been updated in about 30 years and I seem to be unable to operate the old electric cooker properly (eggs are hard boiled, always)! That has somewhat hampered my cooking mojo and I have felt fairly uninspired over the past couple of months.

A food festival seemed like just the right thing then to find some inspiration, sample some of the goods and take images. I have to admit that it was also curiosity that drew me to it since I’m still discovering my new surroundings, making new friends, finding my way around. So on Saturday Monsieur and I made our way to Malton where the festival was being held all around the market square and the town centre. As we strolled around and checked out the stalls, I caught myself thinking “hmm, I could get all of this and more any day of the week on Borough Market and this is a big annual event?”. Oh the arrogance of somebody who has just left London! I told myself off in my head and vowed to be more appreciative of my new home and its offerings and not to compare apples and pears - because that’s what you’re essentially doing when you compare London to anywhere else in the country.

Once I decided to simply take it for what it is, I found it enjoyable and above all fun. We chatted with vendors, sampled food, bought a totally random assortment of sweet and savoury treats and stopped at a gin shop for a chat with the very charming and knowledgeable Scottish owner and some gin tasting. If there was one thing I’d criticise, it’s that it didn’t feel like much of a festival, but rather like a market. It lacked the festival atmosphere I’d expect, the buskers, the long tables and benches for people to sit around and chat, the stalls where you buy the kind of food to eat there and then - you know, freshly made paella, that sort of thing. Still, Monsieur and I returned home feeling fairly happy with the day and our first ever experience of a Northern food festival. No, it’s not London, but nowhere apart from London is. That’s something I would have to get used to no matter where I move and something that will take time. The main thing to remember is that we left the capital for very positive reasons and in order to pursue a different lifestyle and that’s exactly what we’re getting. And a food festival or even market is a great start.

With a more, ahem, responsible approach to drinking coffee also came a desire to drink better coffee. Pre-ground packs that I’d just chuck into my cafetière weren’t going to do anymore, no, it had to be something more upmarket. Dragging my heels and procrastinating (as I have a tendency to do) meant that time passed without me doing anything about it until fate intervened and the nice people from SCOTT, a newly launched brand in the UK, got in touch with their SLIMISSIMO coffee maker. A coffee maker that does everything for me and delivers a cup of freshly ground and brewed coffee in under a minute! Perfect! Yes, it uses fresh beans, grinds them for each individual cup and then delivers the perfectly brewed cup. And if (like me), you like to experiment with different flavours and sizes, then you'll be pleased to know that you can simply remove the drip catcher at the bottom to accommodate tall glasses! Another HUGE plus in my books is that there are no nasty capsules involved! The planet is drowning in rubbish and I really do not want to unnecessarily add to it by using a tiny capsule for each cup of coffee.

So, in order to “celebrate” my new-found love for coffee, this new coffee maker and of course coffee itself, I have come up with three simple recipes that are perfect for the cold as well as festive season. And speaking of festive season, if you're looking for a gift for a coffee lover, then this nifty little appliance together with the milk frother is currently on offer at SCOTT! I've put both to the test for these recipes and can only say that it's a fab addition to my collection of kitchen appliances. And that little milk frother is pretty clever as, if you want hot milk, it will heat it up for you!

Spiced Rum & Cream:

Ingredients to make the rum syrup:

• 100ml dark rum

• 100ml water

• 200g golden caster sugar

• 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg

• 1/4 tsp ground ginger

• 1/2 tsp ground cinnamon

How it’s done:

• place all the ingredients into a saucepan and bring to a boil

• turn the heat down and simmer for 10 minutes

• pour the syrup into a jar and keep in the fridge ready for use

To make the coffee:

• add 2 tbsp of the syrup to a 200ml glass/cup

• top with 2 large coffees

• top with a big dollop of whipped double cream

• if you want to be extra fancy, add a little gold leaf on top for your guests

Chocolate Mint & Marshmallows:

Ingredients (for each cup):

• 2 squares of good quality, dark mint chocolate

• 100ml frothed milk made in the Milkissimo 4-in-1 Hot & Cold Milk Frother (see the jug in the pic above)

• marshmallows to top

• candy canes optional

How it’s done:

• put the chocolate squares into the bottom of your glass/cup

• heat up and froth the milk in the Milkissimo Milk Frother

• top with 2 large coffees

• stir with a long spoon

• add the frothed milk

• top with mini marshmallows

Orange Coffee:

Ingredients (for one cup):

• 1 tsp of finely zested orange peel

• 1 heaped tsp of caster sugar

How it’s done:

• place the orange zest and sugar into a glass/cup

• top with 2 large coffees and stir

• you can add cream if you wish, but I really liked the strong citrus flavour with the coffee by itself

Disclaimer: I was compensated for this post, however, all images and opinions stated in this post are my own. Moreover, I truly have gone back to drinking coffee.

Anyway, I had escaped (which obviously sounds a lot more dramatic than it was, though a traffic jam on the A1 is not something to be sneered at!) the big smog and I had a plan. Well, sort of. I wanted to take my camera and explore life on the coast and maybe snap some of the people there. Since I'm usually very much drawn to the moors, I wanted to give myself a different view of North Yorkshire and the weather was obviously conductive to spending time near the sea (though I also love a good, blustery autumn day by the coast, but that's for another day). And Staithes seemed like a great place to do that since it has the wonderful mix of tourism and an active fishing industry. 

I started the day with a cup of tea at one of the local cafés and the idea of just soaking up some of the sunshine and seaside atmosphere for a while. After I had I settled down though, I simply started to observe. I wanted to observe the people walking past, the ones making their way to the beach, the couples, families and the people with hats. There's something about people wearing hats in a completely matter-of-fact and unpretentious manner that somehow always gets my attention and I can't help but try and take a picture. 

I stood still for a while and looked over the beach. I watched dogs running around, children playing, people sunning themselves and having fun. Being on my own meant I could just linger and be a bystander without worrying about anybody else getting bored whilst I waited it out for the (in my opinion) perfect shot. Or at least for the hats to be lined up...

Beaches and hats aside, one of the main reasons I headed to that part of Yorkshire was the fishing. Not that I actually did any. No, it was the more the boats, the landing of fish and shellfish, the fishermen and all the work involved I was interested in. As a foodie, I like to see more of the backstory of the food. I believe that food photography is not restricted to having a plate of food and some ingredients in an image, but should encompass the preparation and sometimes unsightly aftermath (yeah, the pile of washing up waiting in the sink) as well as the source. I mean, in a way we obviously all know where our food comes from (in a general sense anyway, I'm not necessarily talking exact geographical location), but I believe it to be a nice reminder to really see it live and and just find out a little more about it all. 

I was lucky enough to get chatting to one of the fishermen and to find out not just more about the lobsters and the fact that they're actually being sold to places like France and Spain, but also about his background. And it's during that chat that it emerged that Richard used to have a high-flying career within a completely different industry. A job that included everything from travelling the world to flash cars. And then, 5 years ago, he chucked it all in, moved to Staithes and became a fisherman. That's the short version anyway. His own words were that he's never been happier and wouldn't go back to the corporate world for all the money in the world. He's turned his back on all the outward signs of wealth and success to be successfully happy fishing for cod, plaice, lobster and crabs. There's obviously no doubt that it's a tough job (he did say so himself) even on a sunny day, but it's a lifestyle that brings you back to basics, to nature, and that really makes you realise how much we waste on superfluous things, status symbols and sometimes even relationships with other people that aren't in any way contributing to our wellbeing... 

And then I went back to where I started what I love doing: I observed. I watched as the lobsters and crabs were landed, the boat was scrubbed and the plaice sorted. Whilst it might have appeared easy, there's no doubt this is one of the harder jobs and not one I'd be cut out for. But I am grateful for the food these men provide throughout the year and for all the hard work they put in so that we get our dose of omega-3 and beautiful shellfish dishes. 

I've "played" with food pairings before and have mostly had a lot of fun with it (some complete disasters notwithstanding), so I wanted to really go all out this time with an afernoon tea that complements the beautiful new fruit and floral tea range from JING Tea. Instead of just complementing it though, I decided to take fairly literal cues from the flavours and translate them into baked goods, because each of those teas is seriously aromatic with a very distinct taste. If you haven't tried the teas yet, I would honestly urge you to give them a go. Now, most of you will know me as a die-hard coffee drinker, so me advocating tea might come as a bit of a surprise. Even more of a surprised might be to find out that I haven't had a single cup in over six (!!!) weeks. Since I needed to replace my coffee with something else, herbal teas seemed like the best and tastiest alternative.

Anyway, as mentioned at the beginning, I've prepared four recipes which should make for a beautiful afternoon tea and satisfy most tastes. Each recipe I have come up with is designed to match one of the JING Teas and their flavours, and have even used the tea in two of them: the delicately flavoured Apple Pavlova with JING's Apple & Hibiscus Tea. and the Granita which is made with the amazing Pineapple & Osmanthus Tea. Just add some cucumber sandwiches to your table if needed and you're good to go. Here then the four recipes:

• Pavlova with an Apple Curd and Apple Slices
• Strawberry Madeleines
• Rose & Raspberry Éclairs
• Pineapple & Osmanthus with White Rum Granita

If any of these sound good to you, read on and prepare yourself for friends to knock on your door to join you for your afternoon tea. 

Pavlova with Apple Curd & Apple Slices:

Because of the different elements that need to cool down for substantial amounts of time, I would advise to prep everything one day ahead of assembly. You could add some cream on the top if you're so inclined and I did briefly contemplate it, but I found the curd to be so rich as well as delicately flavoured that I decided against it. 

Ingredients:

For the Meringue:

• 6 egg whites (large, organic eggs)
• 300g caster sugar (I use golden caster sugar for an off-white look, go with normal caster sugar if you want your meringue to be snow-white)
• 1tbsp corn flour

For the Curd:

• 650g Bramley Apples
• 6 egg yolks (left from the meringue)
• 2 whole eggs
• 125g unsalted butter
• 100ml JING Apple & Hibiscus tea

For the apple slices:

• 400g Bramley Apples
• juice of 1/2 a lemon

How it's done:

Starting with the curd:

• boil some water and combine 100ml with 1tbsp of JING Apple & Hibiscus tea, leave to steep
• peel, core and slice the apples and put into a large saucepan
• add the tea
• over a medium heat, cook the apples until soft
• mash them with a wooden spoon until they're broken down
• now pass the apples through a fine sieve into a heat-proof bowl
• separate 6 eggs and keep the egg whites for the meringues
• whisk the 6 egg yolks and 2 whole eggs together
• put the bowl with the apple purée over a saucepan with boiling water making sure the water doesn't touch the bowl
• start slowly heating the apples and add the butter
• whisk until you have a smooth and glossy mix
• heat the mix to 55-60C (no higher)
• slowly pour in the eggs whilst continuously whisking
• turn up the heat and whisk until you have the consistency of a thick custard
• once done, take the bowl of the heat, cover with cling film right on top of the curd and leave to cool

Next the meringues:

• preheat your oven to 140C
• draw three circles (around 20-24cm) on baking parchment and place them on baking trays
• put the egg whites into a mixer bowl and whisk until stiff peeks are forming
• continue to whisk whilst slowly adding the sugar
• once all the sugar is dissolved, add the cornflour and mix until you have a glossy meringue
• using a spatula, put 1/3 of the meringue mix onto each parchment paper
• spread the meringue to just about the size of each circle
• put the meringues in the oven and bake for one hour
• after an hour, turn the oven off and leave the meringues to cool with the oven door closed for 3 hours

For the apple slices:

• peel and core the apples, then cut into slices of about 3-5mm thickness
• put the apple slices and lemon juice into a large saucepan and start cooking them on a medium heat
• cook the apples for only about 4 minutes or until just about soft
• tip them straight out of the saucepan into a colander and leave to cool

For the assembly:

• heap roughly 1/3 of the curd onto the first meringue, then top with roughly 1/3 of the cooked apple slices
• top with the second meringue
• cover with another 1/3 of curd and apple slices
• top with the third meringue
• now top with the remaining apple curd and slices
• decorate with flowers for a pretty presentation

Strawberry Madeleines: 

Makes around 40

Ingredients:

• 200g self-raising flour
• 120g butter, melted and cooled
• 150g caster sugar
• 200g fresh strawberries
• 3 large eggs
• butter and flour for the moulds

How it's done:

• start by cleaning the strawberries and then put them into a food processor 
• whizz the strawberries until you have a smooth purée
• next whisk the eggs and caster sugar until you have a fluffy white mix
• add the strawberry purée whilst whisking
• add the flour and whisk until all combined
• now add the melted butter and slowly incorporate into the batter
• put the batter into the fridge and cool for at least one hour or over night
• thickly butter your mould(s), dust with flour and put into the freezer for 15 minutes
• preheat your oven to 200C
• take the batter out of the fridge and the mould out of the freezer
• fill each mould with around 1tbsp of batter
• bake for about 8 minutes - they should have risen in the middle and be "spongy" when pressed down gently

Rose & Raspberry Éclairs:

I tried the filling with a whole tablespoon of rosewater which was too strong a flavour for my test peeps. I loved it, but then I'm very partial to strong flavours. So, 1/2 a tablespoon gives a beautiful rose and raspberry flavour that won't overpower your tastebuds. 

Makes around 12 éclairs

Ingredients:

For the choux pastry:

• 200ml water
• 100g butter
• 100g plain flour
• 4 medium, organic eggs

For the filling:

• 300ml double cream
• 225g fresh raspberries
• 100g icing sugar
• 1/2tbsp rose water

For the icing:

• 80g fresh raspberries
• 200g icing sugar
• optional: fresh raspberries, freeze-dried raspberry powder

How it's done:

• preheat your oven to 200C
• if you have, prepare your éclairs mould by greasing it and dusting with a little flour, otherwise line a baking tray with parchment paper
• put the water with the butter into a saucepan and bring to a boil
• now dump the flour into the water and stir with a wooden spoon
• stir until the dough starts to come off the edges
• add the eggs one by one whilst vigorously stirring
• keep stirring until you have a smooth dough
• now transfer the dough to a piping bag fitted with a large, round nozzle
• pipe the dough into the moulds or onto the parchment paper leaving space between each
• put the éclairs in the oven and bake for 10 minutes at 200C, then turn down the temperature to 175C and bake for a further 30 minutes
• once done, remove the éclairs from the oven and leave to cool
• when the éclairs are completely cooled, slice them horizontally down the middle
• to make the filling, start by whizzing the raspberries in a food processor with the icing sugar
• now beat the double cream until thick and stiff peeks are forming
• add the raspberry purée and rose water and fold in to combine
• put the cream into a piping bag with a star-shaped nozzle
• now pipe the cream onto the bottom half of each éclair and place the top half onto the cream
• to make the icing, start by pressing the fresh raspberries through a fine sieve (you could blend them first, but they're generally so soft that it seems like a waste of time)
• slowly add the icing sugar and keep stirring until you have a smooth, gloopy mix
• using a teaspoon, pour a little icing onto each éclair
• put a single raspberry on top and scatter a little raspberry powder onto the icing 
• refrigerate until ready for serving (especially important during our current heat wave!)

Pineapple, Osmanthus & White Rum Granita:

This one is best made the day before because it needs at least 8 hours to freeze. 

Serves: 4

Ingredients:

• 500ml JING Pineapple & Osmanthus tea
• 100ml white Rum
• 3tbsp sugar

How it's done:

• brew the tea and add the sugar whilst hot
• leave the tea to steep for 10 minutes
• pour the tea through a sieve into a freeze-proof container
• add the rum and stir
• freeze for 2 hours
• using a fork, rake through the forming ice
• freeze again for a further two hours, then rake again
• freeze for a further two hours and pass the fork through it again
• you should have a consistency of "snow granules" by the end of it
• serve in martini glasses to add some glamour to your table

Disclaimer: I have been compensated for this post by JING Tea, however, all images, recipe, writings and opinions are my own. And yes, I really have given up coffee, too. 

Then I had a rethink. Because what I wanted to write here wasn't some kind of botanical guide that would require in-depth knowledge. I wanted to write about the photography part. And the styling. Which means that no matter what flowers you have, you could apply these tips to capture your blooms in the best possible way. When it comes to photographing flowers there are - in my humble opinion - two ways to go: 1. show flowers, 2. create a beautiful image. The first option is what you will see on the websites of large mail-order florists. You get my drift. The second option is the one to choose when you really want to convey the beauty of the blooms, create something personal and deliver images that evoke some sort of emotion in the viewer. Or at least makes them want to hit the "pin it" button. No prizes for guessing which option I'm going for. 

Of course this is a huge subject and you might wonder how this (especially when it comes to the images) might apply to you when your taste might be totally different to mine. Well, this is a rough "how to", which means you can apply the same principles to any bouquet you might have and any kind of look you want to achieve. Whether breezy pastels or moody darks, the principles are the same. So, I hope this will be useful, but do let me know if you have any other questions by leaving a comment. 

1. Choose the right vessel. Apart from the fact that plonking your flowers in some random glass vase will potentially look rather pedestrian (though it works if we're talking a single stem in a very simple glass, but that's a whole different subject), it certainly won't help create an overall look. When photographing flowers as a still life, you will want to consider the small details that make the surroundings. That includes the vase/bucket/tin or whatever you choose. I've chosen this particular pot specifically because the shape and size works extremely well with the shape and size of the bouquet and it has the sort of surface texture that creates a less "polished and pretty" look. I wanted a natural and slightly rough look for the images here and have therefore matched the accessories accordingly. Makes sense, right?

2. Make it yours. Now, I'm treading very carefully here because I certainly don't want to take anything away (I couldn't even if I tried!) from professional florists and their bouquets are of course beautiful and perfect. However, for me, that's exactly the "problem": they're perfect. And I don't want perfect, I want personal and imperfect. For a start, I will leave the flowers to age a little before photographing them because it fits the kind of look I'm after. Again, that's a personal preference and there's nothing wrong with preferring them to be super fresh and perky. In my opinion, flowers (just like a good wine that needs to breathe and a stew that has been re-heated somehow tastes better) look better on day two or three. A very slight droop and fade is perfectly acceptable in my book to make them look natural.

I might then "rough up" the bouquet a little. This goes for all bouquets and vases: don't just stick the bouquet still tied up into your vase. Take any ties off, cut the stems back a little and loosen the bouquet up before placing it in water. This is important if you don't want to end up with an image of a bouquet that looks like it's been taken straight from the above mentioned generic mass market florist's website. 

Add a little of your personality. I've added a few twigs to the bouquet and some petals that had fallen off as well as the natural ties around it to create an overall look. This is not about completely changing the bouquet in itself, but about making it yours and about adapting it for the image you're looking to create. If you're perfectly happy with the flowers as they arrived, then that's great, but you should still consider adding a few little accessories like ribbons, some petals, cutting scissors or anything that goes with your look and story. 

3. Look at it from a different angle. I always say to my students that they need to consider which side the camera will look at their still life (it's not a wedding reception setup where the result will be viewed from all sides!) and set it up accordingly. So, choose where the front (from where you'll be shooting) is and set up your bouquet and still life accordingly. However, once that is done, start looking at it from different angles. Straight on, at a 45 degree angle, in from the side, looking at your bouquet and composition from different angles will reveal different and interesting looks. Not every picture will be a success, but you will also be surprised at the images you might discover that you hadn't previously considered. 

4. Crop your shot. People often get stuck trying to fit every detail of the still life into the frame. However, cropping your shot and nearly filling the frame can look really interesting and make for a very dynamic image.  

5. Go in close. The most beautiful and small details often get lost when we're looking at a bouquet as a whole. Whilst it's of course the way the flowers have been put together that make the bouquet special, it's the individual details that really make it. By going in close and concentrating on those details, you're giving the viewer an insight into your still life as well as that feeling of "I can nearly touch it". 

6. Think "outside the box". Apologies for the middle management speak... What I mean is that it can be a great idea to work out of context. Flowers meet vase. Ok, been there, done that. But how about taking the flowers into a completely different setting? We sometimes get stuck with one 'look' which is then repeated over and over. Not only do we risk boring ourselves with that, but also our audience. You might have one of those days where your usual "thing" simply doesn't come together (believe me, we ALL have those days!) and you look at your still life knowing something's off. Take it somewhere else - literally! Grab those flowers and walk around your house with them. Place them on different surfaces and in front of different backdrops and see what happens. Heck, put them in your sink! It kinda worked for me...

7. Leave some negative space. I know, this one has been repeated everywhere, but that is of course because it works so well! Whether light or dark, leaving some of your image frame blank will draw attention to the main item and create tension. Just make sure the backdrop is fairly plain as you don't want it distracting from the bouquet. 

8. If all else fails, add cake! Sometimes things (see above) don't go to plan and the accessories are off and nothing is coming together. Just as I'd advise to add flowers to your cake (it always looks great!), why not add cake to your flower images? Ok, this one is just a little bit tongue-in-cheek and I don't expect anybody to bake a cake just to add it to their flower still life, but I had this one ready and figured it worked nicely. Oh, and if you're interested in the cake, the recipe for this gluten-free and vegan sponge/cheesecake with caramelised mango slices will be up here soon. 

I hope this little guide is really helpful to you and you're inspired to spend your weekend photographing flowers. If you're looking for a florist to supply you with a beautiful bouquet, take a peek at The Real Flower Company who supplied these gorgeous blooms. And if you're looking to further your photography and styling skills, why not join me at one of my workshops? All details HERE and more dates will be added soon. 

When I posted an image of this pudding on my Instagram a few days back I also wrote about being stuck, having lost my voice and therefore my blogging incentive. The feedback to that post was both touching and hugely motivating and I can't thank people enough for taking the time to share their thoughts on the subject. Quite a few advised me to simply post the images along with the recipe and not to worry about the words. So, I guess that's what I'm doing right now. Thank you for being here, for reading and for your support. 

Ingredients:

• 350ml almond milk
• 200g gluten-free, self-raising flour plus a little extra to flour your baking tin
• 200g medjool dates
• 120g dark muscovado sugar
• 120g vegan spread (margarine) plus a little extra to grease your baking tin
• 2tbsp black treacle
• 1tsp bicarbonate of soda
• 1/2tsp ground cinnamon
• 1/4tsp ground nutmeg
• 1tsp freshly grated ginger

For the sauce:

• 200g light muscovado sugar
• 100g black treacle
• 150g vegan spread (margarine)

To serve:

• 1 tin coconut milk, chilled for at least 24 hours
• 1tsp vanilla bean paste
• 2tbs caster sugar

How it's done:

• chop the dates into small pieces
• grate a tsp of fresh ginger
• put the milk, dates and ginger into a small pot and bring just about to a boil
• turn down the heat and simmer for around 20 minutes/until the dates are soft
• take the pot off the heat and add the bicarbonate of soda
• leave to cool
• grease and flour a 20cm baking tin
• preheat your oven to 190C
• mix the flour with the ground cinnamon and nutmeg
• whisk the margarine and muscovado sugar until pale and frothy
• add the black treacle and mix until combined
• now add 1/4 of the flour followed by 1/4 of the date milk and fold in
• repeat until both the flour and milk are used up
• pour the mix into the baking tin
• bake for 30 minutes
• to make the sauce, put al the ingredients into a saucepan
• melt the ingredients and simmer for  minutes
• using a toothpick (or similar), prick little holes into the cake
• pour half the hot syrup over the cake and put the other half into a jug for serving
• when ready to serve, beat the coconut milk with the vanilla and sugar on high speed until you have stiff peaks
• cut individual pieces of pudding, pour some sauce over them and add a dollop of cream

Looking through this post, you will notice that the images are ordered by location. It seemed to make the most sense not only geographically, but also aesthetically. Each part of the landscape has its own look, its own light and its own "colour scheme". Where, for example, Monsaraz was very much dominated by the white buildings and terracotta tiled roofs, Lisbon was overall a lot more colourful. Monsaraz was the dreamy little town (parish, to be more exact) we visited as part of our visit to the weaving factory. Whilst the factory does sell a few pieces, the main shop for all the wonderful woven rugs and blankets is located in this small hilltop town. With the bougainvillea in full bloom providing a bright pop of magenta, the whites seemed even whiter. This place was full of beautiful little houses, traditional shops and stunning views over the surrounding countryside. Admittedly, walking down the cobbled streets felt nothing short of a mediterranean holiday cliché, but sometimes we just have to embrace it all and go with the flow... 

Lisbon, like any other major city, is of course not really explorable within a few hours. We might get a small glimpse, grab a few impressions, and try to soak up some of the atmosphere in the hope that we will be able to retain some of that feeling for future reference. For example when writing about it. But what can I write about a few hours in such a vibrant city that will even begin to do it justice? We took the traditional tram up a hill, spent some time visiting a wonderful haberdashery full of treasures for anybody who likes to knit or crochet, had an amazing lunch and bought some traditional pastries. Time flies in big cities, far more so than in the countryside. Hours feel like snatched moments. Snapshots is all you're getting whilst hoping that they will capture some of the essence. So yes, maybe I have, maybe I haven't...

One place that felt just about perfect was A Vida Portuguesa, a shop that is part apothecary, part general household goods heaven and filled to the brim with oh-so covetable goodies. Old-fashioned glass cabinets and heavy shelves display everything from traditional soaps to regional eau de colognes, from olive oils to tinned sardines, and from baking moulds to brooms. It's one of those places that feel like they've been there for centuries and haven't changed much which makes them all the better for it. Yes, as shops go (and I had sworn off impulse purchases and mindless shopping in general), this is one is worth every minute spent in it... 

Back to the countryside and to a slower pace where the midday sun empties the streets and makes villages look deserted. The further south you head, the more burnt the colours start to look. Despite it being only May, the first signs of the scorched colours were already visible. The greens are different from the very deep and luscious greens in the UK, there's a gentler and more faded quality to them. They blend in with the dried part of the vegetation. We had one of the best lunches on the terrace of an amazing restaurant situated in a tiny village. Overlooking fields with goats and sheep, I could have sat there all day just listening to the birds and the wind, eating good food and drinking wine. 

From countryside and cities, arts and crafts, food and wine, Portugal has so much to offer and even just a few days have left me wanting to go back again and again. It had been such a long time since my last visit and there's always the risk of remembering things through rose-tinted glasses and with a little too much nostalgia, but it was just as beautiful, vibrant, interesting and captivating as I remembered it. 

A lot of the workshop was focused on crafts and that did of course include some of the ancient crafts of the region. Spinning, weaving, basket making and pottery, I vividly remember some of these crafts from the time I spent in Portugal as a child and it was a beautiful experience to revisit those and a few of the people behind the work. Keeping old crafts alive and making a living of them is one of the many challenges faced by these people. In the age of cheap, fast and disposable fashion and interiors, trying to survive by making quality products by hand is certainly not an easy choice. Speaking to these people though (actually, having a few questions translated since my Portuguese is non-existent), it seems like it wasn't ever a question of 'choice'. They took over the business from the previous generation and this is just the way things have always been for them. That doesn't make it any easier though. Sure, looking in from the outside, it all looks quite romantic and "artisan", but it's not an easy life and the younger generation has mostly decided to up sticks and make a different life in the city. It looks like a lot of these crafts will die out when the current generation keeping them alive is no more...

One person who is actively changing this is Mizette Nielsen, a former model from The Netherlands who bought a weaving factory 30 years ago in order to keep this local craft alive. It is in this factory that the traditional Alentejo blankets and rugs are handwoven on giant looms operated by trained weavers. This does not only supply employment in one of Portugal's poorest regions, but helps to raise awareness about traditional crafts and the value of quality products. The blankets are now not only sold locally, but exported all over the world and you can even commission your own designs! 

Another "famous" Portuguese export is pottery. I still remember the masses of classic, terracotta-coloured plates and bowls we had in our little house on the Algarve. Some of them plain, some of them decorated with a white pattern. There were also some more elaborate and colourful patterns on a white glaze which would feature on everything from plates and jugs to wall tiles. Visiting this place where each item is made by hand and stacks upon stacks of finished plates, vases, cups, platters and bowls are on display was something of a treat. Stepping into the dark interior away from the hot midday sun, it felt like we were entering some sort of secret hideaway. The smell of clay in the air, the dust and patina visible on every surface was a testament to the work that has been carried out in this place for decades and through generations. And despite the obvious presence of people, it felt remarkably calm and the clicking of my camera shutter button seemed strangely intrusive. Still, I couldn't resist... 

Far from the cities, in the Alentejo countryside lies a village which is home to a wool spinner and a weaver. Rosa from Retrosaria, our guide for the day, owns a beautiful haberdashery in Lisbon that is supplied with wool from the spinner. This truly is a locally sourced and handmade product and it doesn't get more honest than that. The wool is cleaned, brushed, oiled, spun and dyed into a variety of earthy tones. It bears no resemblance to the scratchy wool I remember from my childhood, being wonderfully soft to the touch instead. The ladies working here have done so in the same way for many decades. Modern technology seems to have completely bypassed these small industries and knowledge as well as techniques have been passed down through the generations. It occurred to me that these women were probably in many ways fitter and healthier than myself despite being much older. The simple life, physical work and healthy mediterranean diet seem to keep them young in a way that is just so natural. Comparing that to my own life in a polluted city where I spend far too much time sitting on my backside staring at a computer screen, it seems pretty clear who is not only going to age better but healthier, too. Watching the weaver literally climb into her big loom to operate it at well over 70 years of age whilst joking around with us was more than enough proof that maybe we don't have it all figured out with all our gadgets and gyms... 

In the most remote location, away from towns and villages, and in the middle of the mountains getting close to the Algarve (the town of Monchique was only about 25 miles away) lives Antonio. Antonio is the basket weaver who lives and works from the farm he still shares with his parents. He immediately won all of us over with his friendliness, a flirty glint in his eyes and his cheeky smile. He showed us his collection of baskets that he sells on markets, proudly telling us that many people shun the more perfect-looking machine made ones in favour of his hand-made creations. Watching him make a basket from scratch whilst taking the time to chat to his parents as well as Rosa, who translated for us, felt like being allowed into a secret world. One that is completely removed from what we perceive as "the norm" (whatever that might be) and where time has stood still. Not only were we physically in a remote location, we had entered a completely different world. There was a natural calmness to him, his parents, and the surroundings that cannot be forced or artificially recreated: it is borne out of a simple way of life that hasn't changed over the decades and what seemed like complete contentment and acceptance. Antonio offered us freshly picked oranges from his tree (being the end of the season, they were some of the best and sweetest I've ever tasted) and patiently carried on with his work seemingly completely unfazed by our presence. Leaving there, even after such a short time, felt slightly emotional. I would have loved to stay, observe, talk, learn...

I know this post is very image heavy, but there was no other way to convey some of the beauty I encountered on this trip. I'm humbled by these people, their dedication to their craft, their simple life and the honesty which seems to be the basis for everything they do. It made me think a lot about how we live and how we consume. I hope that these crafts will live on and won't disappear in our misguided quest for ever more consumption, cheaper, mass-produced products and disposable fashions. If you'd like to join Natasha and Sarah on one of their retreats, click HERE for more information.