Have an artist in your house and there will be flowers on your table, laughter in your eye and sausage in your belly. Currently we are being visited by our great friend Tim, an Irish Geordie equally adept at handling a spatula as a paintbrush.

The thick feral sleep of my fiancé and I has been blissfully awakened this week by Tim’s guitar playing from the hammock outside on the roof. The hammock from which I now write. What will I do when he’s gone? Resume the daily unknowing snooze to the chorus of three frantic alarm clocks.

Ami x