What I didn't know about Elephant and Castle

I have a vague memory of my first encounter with Elephant and Castle. We were going to visit one of my distant relatives in the hospital near Waterloo, and I remember getting stuck on the massive roundabout at E&C, and seeing the Elephant out of my window, looking sad and paint-flaked.

I can't remember how old I was - maybe twelve? - but I do remember thinking, 'God this is a scary area.'

Fast forward a few years, and I applied to do an MA in Screenwriting at London College of Communication, without really thinking about where the campus was based. I duly trotted off  to the interview, emerging from Elephant and Castle tube station and promptly getting completely and utterly lost trying to navigate my way through the frankly terrifying underpass. I made it, eventually, relatively unscathed. And was offered a place on the course. For the last two years, therefore, Elephant and Castle has featured more heavily in my life than I ever would have anticipated as I stared out of that car window.

On the first day back of my term this year, we were told to go to the shopping centre and follow someone around for half an hour, making notes about them, which we would then use to create a semi-fictional character. I'd never really bothered to leave the university building before - apart from obligatory trips to the pub after class - and so I'd never been to the shopping centre.

I was amazed. It's easily one of the most interesting places I've ever seen in London. It's like a time warp - and walking around reminded me so strongly of my childhood, and the kind of shopping centres I used to visit with my Mum when I was little. It's so eighties - everything from the old shop signs, to the swirly orange-and-green carpet, the garish multi-coloured fascias and the escalators leading up to the London Palace Bingo. It's kind of amazing, in a rather run-down, impoverished way. Not so much shabby chic as shabby bleak.

When we got back to class, I squirreled my iPhone onto my lap and began researching the area. There was so much I didn't know about it. Apparently, in Victorian times, it was known as the 'Piccadilly Circus of the South' - with shops, cinemas, dance halls and a direct tram line. But it was heavily bombed in the war, and then in the 1950s, plans began to build the largest enclosed shopping centre in Europe on the site. In comparison with contemporary beasts like Westfields, the neo Brutalist centre was relatively modest in size, but the whole thing was designed around the core belief that the future of transport lay with the car. Which goes some way to explaining the way it now lies squashed in on all sides by busy roads. The underpass which transports pedestrians around the area - clearly the design of someone who can do the Rubik's cube with their eyes shut - is confusing, bewildering, smelly and not somewhere you'd want to be late at night. It's hard to believe planners and developers ever believed it would appeal to shoppers.

The shopping centre was a failure from the very beginning, with only 29 out of a possible 120 shops trading when it opened in 1965. It's not a huge surprise to see why. To quote postwarbuildings.com: 'The centre is essentially a windowless box topped by a steel-framed meccano-like office block called Hannibal House.'

Hannibal House? Could they have made it sound any more like the location for a horror movie?

Nowadays, most shops in the centre are actually open and trading, but many are scruffy 'money transfer' type places, with the odd chain store sticking out less than you'd think thanks to their retro signs (I swear the Boots sign hasn't been upgraded since 1984). There's been a market outside the shopping centre and tube station since the 1990s, and this is definitely where you see most signs of life. It seems busy and bustling and there's a large Latin American community in the area - several people from my course ended up following people who spoke Spanish.

Like many run-down areas of London, E&C is in the middle of a regeneration at present - recently developers unearthed 500 medieval skeletons while digging out the foundations for a new leisure centre. The shopping centre itself was meant to have been demolished in 2010, and apparently the large amount of asbestos on the site means work won't even start till 2015.

It's going to be replaced with another similar mall. Maybe they'll call it the 'Westfield of the South'. I can't help thinking it's a shame, somehow. Terrifying and scruffy it may be, but at least, at the moment, the area still has a personality.

Becoming a magazine journalist

I get lots of emails asking for advice, from people hoping to pursue a career in journalism, so I thought it would be helpful to write a post with my thoughts. Unfortunately and fortunately, like most journalists, I’m really busy and struggle to keep on top of my emails, so sadly I don’t have time to respond to everyone personally.

First off, a caveat to the advice I’m about to give: I’m lucky, because I graduated ten years ago and I think things were much easier then. Online journalism was still very much in its infancy, the recession was a long way off, and magazines were booming, especially in my sector: interiors. There were god knows (well, the ABC probably does) how many more interiors magazines on the shelves in 2002 than there are in 2012. But it was a lot more.

Also! I’m not claiming to be an expert. I have no experience in training journalists – this is really just based on my personal experience over the years.

So how did I get into it?

I studied Classics at uni, which was very interesting but not much help when it came to getting a job after. Thankfully, for fun while I was at uni, I was involved with the student newspaper, Leeds Student, and I had written and published a fair few arts reviews for them. So I did have some cuttings. If you want to be a journalist, get involved with your student paper! Obvious but fundamental.

I went to speak to my careers advisor in my final year, and said I wanted to write books for a living. He told me to become a journalist, saying it was more realistic (sadly I have yet to prove him wrong on this). But I didn’t have any journalism contacts, or any idea how to get into the industry. He pointed me in the direction of postgraduate training.

I was really reluctant to take on any more studies, but realised it was that, or doing a year of unpaid work experience and hoping for a job to come up somewhere I’d been making tea and photocopying. This does happen, but it’s a long and expensive route, with very slim chances. I would say only 5% of interns I’ve ever worked with managed to land a permanent job as a result of interning.

So, I found the shortest, most specialist postgrad course I could, which started a week after leaving university and ran throughout the summer. I applied, had a scary interview in London during my final Easter holiday, and got a place! Hurrah.

The course was a Postgraduate Diploma in Magazine Journalism, at PMA Training, a small but specialist journalism training college. It was fantastic fun – but best of all, they really try hard to get you a job once you finish. It’s also a great course because it’s only 9 weeks, so you don’t have to spend another year training and racking up more debt.

Through the course I got my first job. The course director was doing some consultancy for the company and put me forward for a vacancy that had arisen. I finished the course on the Friday and started the job on the Monday, meaning I actually never had to do any work experience or interning after I finished studying, which was amazing. (And, I now know, very lucky.)

During the course, I did two weeks’ work experience at WENN. This was enough to persuade me I didn’t want to work in celebrity journalism. Fair play to those who do it, but it isn’t my cup of tea. Mostly because I spent two days locked in a dark AV room, transcribing a secretly filmed video of Jordan and her then-boyfriend on a fairground ride, trying to work out what they were saying to each other. Hmm.

Anyway, my first proper, full-time job wasn’t glamorous or fun. It wasn’t even journalism really – I was the ‘sub-editor’ for a big UK holiday company, editing all the marketing text for their brochures. Yep, eight months of writing about sea views and all-inclusive restaurant choices. It wasn’t great. But the people were lovely. And it was a job. And best of all, it helped land me my dream job…

My first proper, bonafide magazine job was as the sub-editor on Kitchens, Bedrooms and Bathrooms, a small consumer magazine about, er, kitchens, bedrooms and bathrooms. I still look back on it as possibly my most favourite job ever. I loved it there, and the people were fab and they are all still my friends (and, in different ways, colleagues – I’ve worked with every single one of them in another capacity since) today. How did I get this job? It was advertised in the Guardian. Not even on the website, since these were dinosaur days, but in the actual Media Guardian supplement (Mondays).

I still have the cut out of the ad… *goes misty eyed*. I applied, had two interviews and a subbing test, and got the job. God knows how as I was quite rough around the edges, but thank you to my dear ex editor, for taking a chance on me. I learnt so much at KBB, a lot of which I attribute to the fact it’s quite a small magazine, so I got to muck in and try lots of different things. Small magazines are a great place to start out.

And the rest is history. Literally. So I’ll shut up now. I’m feeling old. If you’re interested in how my career progressed after that, check out my Linkedin page.

So my top tips are:

• Be 100% sure you can write. Seriously. Please. If you can’t, then you shouldn’t want to be a journalist. Be honest with yourself. • On that note, spellcheck and proofread your CV/covering letters to within an inch of their lives. Get someone else to do this – it’s nigh-on impossible to proofread your own work (prize to anyone who can spot a mistake in this – there’s bound to be at least one!). • Be aware that journalism is tough. You work hard, you don’t get paid very much when you start out, and there is a lot of competition. You have to be determined and persistent. It’s brilliant too of course, but tough! • Participate in any student publishing endeavours that come your way. Network, network, network, even at uni. Meet likeminded folk. Journalism is a relatively small industry and it’s all about contacts. • Do a postgrad course. Look for one that’s accredited by the PTC. I really do think having a postgrad gives you the edge – not least because you often then hear about job opportunities that aren’t advertised. • Make sure you are computer savvy. Get a Mac. Beg, borrow or steal (ahem, not really) Indesign and Photoshop and learn how to use them. Learn basic HTML. Mess around on WordPress, Tumblr, all the other web publishing platforms. Be interested. • Actually, be interested and curious in everything. If you’re not, you don’t really want to be a journalist. Journalists are nosey. • Interning is worth it, but only if you make the most of the opportunity. Be polite, humble, approachable, helpful and friendly – even if what you’re being asked to do is like, totally beneath you. I can’t believe some of the attitudes of the interns I’ve worked with over the last few years. I would never have given any of them a job. Everyone has to start at the bottom, and it was me doing that work a few years ago. No one is too good to check the stockists page! • If you do get the chance to socialise with magazine staff while you’re interning, go for it. Journalism is a sociable industry and it’s great to build relationships and keep in touch with as many people as possible. But don’t get ridiculously drunk and embarrass yourself. • Be nice to everyone you work with. Because you never know where your paths might cross again.

• Go the extra mile. Obvious but true. People remember the overachievers. They remember the people that bugger off at 5.30pm on the dot moaning about their boring day too, but not for good reasons. • Don’t write for free. Don’t spend months/years writing for really obscure online publications that no one’s heard of. Or for other people’s blogs. Not unless you really really, really think it’s worth it. It’s a bit controversial, but I think your time would be better spent writing your own beautifully designed blog and building it into something really fantastic you can show off on your CV. • Recruiting editors will often, if not always, web-stalk their applicants. Be careful about what’s out there about you. • Be confident. Hard if naturally you’re not, I know. But it’s tough to be a successful journalist if you’re shy and retiring. I once interviewed someone who shook the whole way through the interview – she might have been a great writer, but she made me feel so uncomfortable, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to send her off to interview a designer or a homeowner. • Are you a grammar geek? Can you spot a dangling modifier at fifty paces? Consider subbing. It’s a great route into journalism and actually offers a lot of opportunities for freelancing once you’ve got some experience under your belt. • Either use Twitter well, or don’t use it at all. It’s great for networking, but don’t bombard journalists or magazines you want to work for with pleas for commissions. I’d use it more subtly, to glean information about what editors and writers are up to, what they’re working on etc, and then think about how you can help them (not the other way around). Follow all the major publishing houses as they all have job feeds listing their latest vacancies.

• Pick a subject matter/sector to focus on. It’s tricky when you start out but having a passion for a subject matter, and being able to demonstrate that passion, really makes a difference when you go for a job interview. I reckon I only got the KBB job because I love homes and I was genuinely dying to get it, and I think the editor could see this from my interview. Around the same time I also had an interview for an editorial assistant’s job on a big travel trade magazine – I was offered it, but only after the initial person they offered it to turned it down, and now I look back I think they could tell I wasn’t really gagging to write about airlines. • Do your research. Target the magazines you love and email the editors you want to work for, explaining why you love their title and are dying to write for them/freelance for them/get a permanent job with them. Those emails do get read, and they do get passed around. If someone demonstrates a genuine interest in and knowledge of a magazine/website, and has the talent to back it up, they’re very attractive to editors. • Don’t forget online publishing. It’s the future. I left subbing and joined the online world, and although I do still work for print titles too, the majority of my work these days comes from websites. It’s just as glamorous. I promise. • Last but not least – subscribe to the Gorkana job alert. If you don’t know what it is, find out! Now! What are you waiting for?

Once upon a time...

...there was a bathroom. A bathroom without personality.

It was a perfectly acceptable bathroom. It served its purposes - except for the basin tap which had long since checked out of life. But other than that, it worked well enough - it was warm, the shower was powerful, the toilet, er... flushed.

But it was a sad bathroom. It wanted nothing more than a splash of colour, some flair, some love and attention. Some personality.

So that's what it's getting.

Here's my first attempt at a moodboard. Please don't laugh too much - I never did get the hang of Photoshop's marching ants.

My grand plans for a beautiful encaustic geometric floor were sadly put paid due to time and budget constraints, but I'm determined to get some mustard in there somewhere... maybe through some fluffy new towels. I've also been advised against the dark wall as the room is quite small and bathrooms need to be light to be functional, but isn't that teal-grey-navy a beautiful shade?  It's similar to my front door, which is Farrow & Ball's Down Pipe.

The look I originally wanted for my bathroom was based around the concept of 'abattoir chic' (I like to think I coined this phrase, but I probably didn't). So I'm sticking to that theme, more or less.

The last time I saw it, the bathroom was looking significantly worse for wear (that's my lovely fitter Fred in the pic). Fingers crossed its makeover is a success! I'm fairly confident that whatever it ends up looking like will be better than the bland magnolia wasteland I started with.

Watch this space...

From this...

to this...

I swore I never would. I SWORE I never would. But sometimes - just sometimes - it's worth sacrificing your interior design ideals for the happiness of another.

(apologies for blurry top pic - was taken in a rush at an opportune moment on my iPhone)

My Nanowrimo musings

So it's Nanowrimo time of year again... to those uninitiated people, Nano stands for National Novel Writing Month, where crazed writers across the world pledge to write the first draft of a novel during the month of November. The aim is to write 50,000 words, which equates to roughly 1667 words per day. It doesn't divide exactly, which kinda bugs me.

I'm not doing Nano this year, because I'm too busy finishing off my Screenwriting course, but last year I did. And I won!*

Here's my super snazzy graph logging my progress.

Despite it being a bit mental, I really really enjoyed it. I'm never going to be one of those people that runs marathons or climbs mountains, but this felt like an equivalent 'challenge' that I could do. I even finished a few days early, writing 4000 words on the last day, so excited was I to be on the home stretch.

So here are my top tips for anyone suffering this year:

1) Tell everyone you know This basically ensures public humiliation if you fail, which is a great motivator. If you're on Twitter, tweet about it incessantly to remind everyone what you're up to. It may bore them, but it means public pressure pressure pressure, which is what you need!

2) Cheat The 'rules' state that you must start a new project on 1 November. You're not meant to work on something that already exists. F*** that. Work on whatever you like. I used my Nano time to finish off a novel I'd started a year before but for various reasons had deserted during the tricky middle section. I doubt I would have finished that novel for at least another year if it hadn't been for Nano - but I managed to get to the end, meaning I had a shitty first draft to send to my agent. The point of Nano is to galvanise you to write every day, so I think it's perfectly acceptable to write what you like. (I've never much cared for rules anyway.)

3) Check out of life The unexpected side effect of Nano, I found, was that it was a BRILLIANT excuse to forgo any kind of social life for an entire month, which was kind of bliss. Now, I love my busy and hectic life, and I know it's a high-class problem (as my dad would say) but it can get a bit tiring - I'm often out four nights a week seeing friends and going to press events. Nano was a wonderful excuse to say no to everything. It also meant I had to tell more people what I was up to, which helped with point number 1 above.

4) Don't fall behind You don't have to write 1667 words a day. You can write more, buying you some leeway the next day, or less, meaning you have a deficit to make up. I tried really hard to write at least 1667 words per day. Sometimes I wrote more, but only a few times less. I fell behind on a couple of days, and it was frustrating having to play catch up when I next sat down. It's so much easier to keep on top of it if you don't let yourself fall behind, ever. No excuses. It doesn't matter how tired you are, you can bash out 1667 words. I even used Write or Die a few times, which was very silly but fun.

5) Get a Nano buddy I had a few - my friend Susie, another writer Emily Gale and a screenwriter buddy Abby - and we moaned and supported each other throughout. It really helped. And of course, Twitter is rammed full of Nanoers you can chat to, using the #nanowrimo hashtag.

6) Percy Pigs Or Red Bull. Or Haribo. Or Espresso Martinis. Or whatever it is that keeps you awake when you want nothing more than a nap on your keyboard. My diet was shocking throughout Nano - I stocked up on microwave meals at the beginning of the week and duly munched through one per night. Yes it's unhealthy. But it's only a month. You can go on a diet/exercise regime in December, when you emerge bleary eyed, incoherent yet triumphant from your den of writerly pain.

7) Reward Hmm. I'm a big believer in rewarding myself. I might take this a little too far, if I'm entirely honest - it's not unheard of me to reward myself because I managed to get up on time that day - but I think Nano definitely warrants a big fat treat if you succeed. I'd actually bought myself a ridiculously expensive Mulberry handbag before Nano started, so I vowed to myself, and several of my supporters, that if I didn't finish Nano, I'd sell it on eBay. That was probably one of my major motivators, if I'm honest!

Like I said, I really enjoyed doing Nano and am a bit sad that I'm not participating this year. I think it actually might get a bit addictive - I've got a few writer friends (I'm looking at you Keris Stainton and Luisa Plaja) who I know have done it many years in a row.

It's a brilliant initiative. Good luck to all you crazy writer bees - I look forward to seeing you in 2013!

*NB: you don't win anything. Except for the virtual badge above, and a printable certificate. Much like everything in the publishing industry, material reward is unconnected to effort...

Tea and Coffee Festival

What a lovely Autumn day! Perfect for a little wander along my favourite bit of London to peruse the Tea and Coffee Festival... I'm not sure how many years the festival has been going for, but this was the first year I'd heard about it. It was lovely - if a little bijou - and perfect for a sunny Saturday lunchtime stroll.

The first thing I did was treat myself to a gingerbread hot chocolate from Jaz and Jules, which was absolutely delicious - not too sickly either, despite the marshmallow topping I couldn't resist.

There were plenty of cakes on offer!

As well as tea paraphernalia...

I was intrigued by these Chaboba bubble teas - originating from Taiwan, they contain tapioca pearls at the bottom of the cup, which flavour the tea and can be eaten afterwards.

There were a few great lunch-on-the-go options available too. I had a grilled halloumi, tzatziki, rocket, chorizo and chilli ciabatta, which was amazing and very filling for just a fiver.

Meanwhile, O went for a spicy lamb flatbread from The Community Kitchen.

Next door to The Community Kitchen stand was La Marmotte, selling the pongiest cheese, lardons, potato and onion concoction I've ever smelt...it looked amazing, but possibly contained a week's fat allowance in one cheesy bowl, so we resisted.

And we couldn't resist taking home one of these tea bowls from Comins Tea House...

Halloween by Henri

Genius, pure and simple.

My kind of bauble

By some kind of miracle, this year I have managed to get out of writing a single feature on Christmas. Not even a teeny tiny online news story. Nada. Which was a bit of a relief, if truth be told, because last year I was knee deep in all things Yule for nearly three months, working on the Ideal Home Christmas special magazine. By the end of it I was just about ready to punch Father Christmas in the face. And I've always been a good girl for Santa, so that was most out of character.

The downside to this year's Christmas feature drought is that I've had to sigh and delete many of the fantastic press releases and gift guides that have been filling my Inbox. Which is where this blog will probably prove very handy.

So first up from the impossible-to-overlook-Christmas-press-releases are THESE beauties from Prestat! AKA MY KIND OF BAUBLES! Let's be honest, those foil-wrapped Cadbury's bells and 'parcels' of chocolate you hurriedly chuck in your trolley during a late December shop just don't cut it. Half the time the little string ties break as you're attaching them to the tree and the garish wrappings don't exactly scream sophistication when paired with your precious White Company glass snowflakes...

    

All hail Prestat then, for coming up with these delights. There are five different baubles available, each filled with posh chocolate treats. The Pink Heart Bauble and Blue Heart Bauble are both packed with Praline Truffles, the Snowman Bauble and the Rocket Baubles contain Prestat’s dark chocolate Sea Salt Caramels and the Crown Bauble is filled with Milk Marc de Champagne Truffles. At £6.75 each, I think they're a bit of a bargain too. Available online, and from Liberty, Selfridges and John Lewis. And Harrods. Of course.

Bubbledogs

So, today my gay husband Mev and I decided to have a cultural day out. Lunch 'somewhere chichi' (his words not mine) then off to the V&A to see the new Hollywood costumes exhibition.

It didn't really work out like that. Instead, we found ourselves drawn to the spectacularly un-chichi Bubbledogs, the latest in a new range of 'gimmick' restaurants.

We arrived shortly before 2pm to be greeted by a cheerful queue of around 20 people. So far, so predictable.

Just after we arrived, it started to rain, so we were pleased when the queue shuffled inside, and we ended up stood instead in a narrow corridor eyeballing the already seated punters. For about 20 minutes. Eventually we were ushered inside and allocated our tiny portion of, well, shelf really, overlooking the stairs.

Thankfully, we had these quirky hotdog drawings to keep us entertained/distract us from the fact we were staring at a brick wall.

In case you've been living under a rock for the last few months, Bubbledogs is a restaurant that sells hotdogs and champagne. So, we ordered hotdogs and champagne. Well sparkling rose, which was wonderfully dry.

We both ordered the 'New Yorker' - which came with grilled sauerkraut and onions. Mev ordered a beef hotdog, while I went for the more traditional pork.

We also ordered two of a possible three sides to share - potato 'tots' and sweet potato fries. The third option was coleslaw, which struck me as a bit unimaginative. The tots were lovely and salty, and the sweet potato fries were beautifully crisp on the outside, and fluffy in the middle.

Our verdict? Well, it was hotdogs and champagne. I'm not sure what I was expecting really. It was certainly a very good hotdog, almost as good as the hotdogs I've had in Germany when I've stayed with my German best friend. But...but... was it any better than the hotdogs you can buy on a New York street corner? I'm not sure. But I suppose that's not the point.

The food all seems reasonably priced - at £6 for a glass of champers and £6.50 for a hotdog, so I was a bit surprised that the bill came to £38 - it definitely didn't feel like a substantial 'meal' and for £38 I'd expect to go away feeling full. I'm glad I've been, seen what all the fuss is about, but will I go back? I very much doubt it.

As for the V&A exhibition. Ahem, yes, well. We kind of got sidetracked. And did our own 'exhibition tour' of the boutiques of New Bond Street instead... I blame the lunchtime champagne.

Told you I'd be a rubbish cultural blogger.

Number 36

It's already been in the Guardian, but they only used five pictures for some baffling reason (humph). So I thought it'd be nice to share some more pics of my pride and joy. AKA my flat.

I live in the dodgy end of  Wimbledon, in a top-floor two-bedroom Edwardian maisonette, which I bought in April 2011. Living in a maisonette means I get my own front door, which was a real draw for me. I'd been looking at lots of flats with shared entrances and my heart sank everytime. I guess I'm just woefully unsociable, but bumping into people when I'm in a massive rush to get out of the door in the morning is my idea of a nightmare.

Also, I used to live in a comparatively large three-bed semi (with an OUTBUILDING), so I've become a little spoilt.

I wasn't even meant to view this particular flat, but while I was viewing another, round the corner, the estate agent told me this one had come on and that it was nicer and bigger, and suggested I take a look. So I did. And got very excited - I couldn't believe that this two bed would be the same price as the one bed we'd just come from, but the estate agent just shrugged and said it was a little strange but yes, they were the same price. (It was his first day on the job.)

Cue me getting hugely excited. Then finding out on Monday, when I called to put in an offer, that he'd got the price wrong.

Thankfully I somehow managed to beg, borrow and steal the extra money so I could buy number 36.

And one of the first things I did was paint the front door, in Railings by Farrow & Ball.

When I moved in, the hallway and stairs were carpeted, but I ripped the carpets out and painted all the floorboards white because the space felt very dark. Papering the stair risers is an idea I first saw in a reader home feature in Livingetc - the homeowner had used Orla Kiely wallpaper to do hers, but she’d papered all the way to the edges of each step. I decided to copy the look using this Isak wallpaper - I love subtle graphic prints like this. However, I just did a strip up the middle, so it mimics the original runner.

It’s actually the only wallpaper I have in the whole flat. I love wallpaper, but in my last home I went a bit feature-wall crazy, and found that I got tired of looking at the same pattern after a while. So in this flat I decided to add interest through soft furnishings and accessories instead, which are easier to replace when you fancy a change.

Hallway

The hallway could really do with a replaster – don’t look too carefully or you’ll notice the bubbled lining paper! It was a magnolia dream when I moved in, so I slapped white paint over everything – including the floor – which immediately brightened the space.

With a totally white background, I’m free to play with splashes of colour. One of the first things I bought when I got the keys to this flat was the Eames’ Hang It All and it’s one of my favourite things. Like most people, I try not to hang much from it because it ruins the effect – which means it’s guilty of the style over substance sin, but I think we can forgive it…

The rugs are from Zara Home and were bargains. The pink handles on the cupboard were also from Zara Home, and they’re a bit luminous for my liking, so I’m on the look out for a replacement. The big white mirror was originally gold and was a hand-me-down from my parents – I spray-painted it with plastic garden furniture paint.

The pendant is from Ikea and was only meant to be a cheap temporary buy until I found something I liked, but I really love it.

Living room

The living room is huge. It’s one of the things I love the most about the flat, and as it’s south-facing it gets lots of sun.

The sofa is the Fancy Nancy from Sofa Workshop and has been used in many, many magazine shoots! It’s got a subtle midcentury look that just works with pretty much any room setting. It’s all about the buttons and the piping, for me. I’d wanted it for about six years, but it was always too expensive. I literally used to harangue Sofa Workshop stores, asking them if they would sell me their display model, but as it was one of their signature pieces they said it was unlikely to ever be sold off. Then, one day, I was shopping and saw it in the window with a big red CLEARANCE tag on it, and marched in and told the rather stunned sales assistant that I had waited six years for it and that I had to buy it. I got about £1000 off, so I was really chuffed.

I choose pink because it’s a (surprisingly) easy colour to live with, bold without being dominant, and adds warmth to my white walls and grey floor, which is painted in Farrow & Ball’s Down Pipe. I’ve got a bit of a pink obsession, actually - I have to restrain myself.

I think colour is incredibly important in interiors, but personally I like to keep it restrained to a few bright splashes, set against a white background - this really maximizes the light and sense of space. Dark walls and lots of heavy patterns make me feel quite claustrophobic. White walls are also more forgiving on imperfections, which helps when you live in a period property that could really do with a replaster…

The Ercol table is an original 50s one found on eBay and is one of my favourite pieces of furniture - the patina of the teak top is just beautiful. The paper lampshade is from Habitat.

I found the mirror in a junk shop for £10. It’s an old dressing table mirror from the 1960s - I’d seen one reused in a similar way on one of the design blogs. It weighs a ton so I had to hang it with a huge chain.

The fairy lights are from Cox & Cox. I put them up for Christmas but they’re just too pretty to take down. I’m not into ornaments or clutter, and these shelves are the only place in the flat where I allow myself a few chosen items, mostly old family photos. And my deluxe Scrabble board, which is too big to fit into any cupboards!

Over the years working on interiors mags I’ve learnt that it’s not realistic to try to live in a ‘photoshoot’ room. It’s too sterile, and too impersonal. I’ve seen a lot of expensive homes that have been interior-designed to within an inch of their life, and to me, they often just look like hotel rooms. Your home should be a reflection of you.

Study area

The bunny lamp was from The Little Baby Company. Yes it is meant for children! I’m a bit obsessed with lighting, the quirkier the better. Of course the fact that it’s pink doesn’t hurt either… I actually have six different forms of lighting in the living room - it might sound excessive but lighting changes my mood completely, and because this is a multi-purpose room, changing the lighting helps me get into the mood for work, or relaxation, or entertaining etc.

The chair is from the now defunct Chair Company and was one of the first things I ever bought when I was working for Kitchens, Bedrooms and Bathrooms magazine, a magazine with a very contemporary bent. It definitely influenced my tastes at the time. I had a lot of striped Designers Guild fabric in my life back then.

I’m a bit of a neat freak - I can’t concentrate if my desk is too cluttered, so I only have the essentials next to my computer. Everything else is anally filed away in my filing cabinet. I hate the filing cabinet - it’s industrial looking but not in a good way - and am on the lookout for a ‘softer’ alternative. I’m a fan of the Dulton drawer cabinets, but ideally I’d like something second-hand.

My work has really taught me to investigate the heritage of products - and I’d far rather wait and save for something that’s been lovingly designed and made than just get something cheap and mass-produced. At 100% Design last year I fell in love with a black walnut writing desk from new furniture company Young & Norgate, and that’s now top of my wishlist.

I’m also passionate about second hand furniture - I went to Ardingly last year and it was so inspiring. There’s so much beautiful stuff out there, just waiting to be loved again!

Kitchen

Because of the way the maisonettes in my road were built, my kitchen window looks directly across to next door’s kitchen window. There were no blinds up when I moved in, and I’m not a fan of soft materials in a kitchen anyway, so I decided to put window film up, so that I didn’t eyeball my next door neighbour while I was doing the washing up. This film is from Brume, who do a great range of different styles. It’s very easy to stick up, too.

The kitchen was already fitted when I moved in, and it’s a nice oak design from Ikea (top tip: Ikea kitchens are brilliant and amazing value! Team with an expensive worktop and no one will ever know). I bought the little dining table at Ardingly last year – it’s Victorian and has a cute cutlery drawer on one side. The chairs are vintage chapel chairs. The oilcloth is from John Lewis.

What you can’t see in this picture is my cream Smeg Fab fridge-freezer - my pride and joy, and yes, admittedly another total interiors cliche.

Bedroom

My bedroom is my favourite room. It’s very calm and peaceful, with white-painted floorboards (done myself over three days, back-breaking but satisfying work!) and walls. It’s not a huge room so, again, keeping everything white helps maximise the sense of space. Livingetc did a ‘white’ issue a few years ago, which proved that white doesn’t have to mean clinical, especially when you mix in textures, like my bashed-up floor and lacquered bedside table.

The screenprint above the bed is by Clare Cutts, and was a 30th birthday present to myself! I spotted it in a shop in Dartmouth and found myself thinking about it for the rest of the day, so I went back later and bought it. Total impulse buy, and my most expensive piece of art, but I love it, and it sets the tone for my bedroom as a relaxing haven.

This room has a lovely airy feel that makes me feel like I’m on holiday somewhere warm every time I wake up. The curtains are a subtle striped silk, leftover from a magazine shoot. The chair is the Eames DSW from Vitra, and was the most amazing surprise 30th birthday present. The pigeon light is another design classic, by Ed Carpenter, from Thorsten Van Elten. The chest of drawers, sheepskin rug and oak-framed mirror are all Ikea.

My top tip is: buy what you love. Don’t buy what’s fashionable - buy things that, for whatever reason, you find it hard to walk away from.

Spare bedroom

I'll admit it: the spare bedroom's been done on the cheap. The Ikea daybed was a hand-me-down from my parents, and behind the door is a tiny Ikea wardrobe (from their nursery range - it was the only one that would fit!). The painting above the bed is one of my sister's canvas-printed flower macros, and I love the colours in it. The plaster cast horns were a press gift from M&S.

The other side of the room is dominated by the ridiculous pink polka dot curtains (also from Ikea), which I'm embarrassed to say I absolutely love. They do make the room look a bit like a little girl's room, however. I'm not sure a man would be comfortable sleeping in here! The lower window in this room is covered in wonderful window film by Emma Jeffs - a lace design. It's absolutely beautiful but unfortunately you can't really see it in the photo.

The chair was my grandfather's, and I inherited when he died. The mirror was a door on an old Ikea wardrobe, and the blanket box was my toybox when I was a kid. I painted it to match the mirror. The cushions are all Laura Ashley.

And the bathroom? That's a work in progress...

All photos the work of my super talented sister Sophie Duckworth.