Wild Cherry

Before we carried out works on the top floor, it was her studio. She had an old armchair up there, a wood fire upon which sat this kettle. Winter mornings I would climb up to her studio and she would heat the kettle and make tea. We would sit on a donated old sofa in one corner and look out over the town church spire and recount what work we had achieved or not that morning, before I headed down to leave her in her sacred space and to begin to prepare lunch, She was never happier than when she could spend time in her studio.