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We grew up reading Tove Jansson, who my mother absolutely loved. It was years and years before I ever met anyone who had ever heard of the Moomins, but recently, they seem to have undergone something of a retro-revival. This is a coaster from a funky scandinavian shop in Bath (I also bought a moose for my key chain), and one of my favourite drawings from the books.

This is a sculpture of some Roman emperor on the rebuilt walls of the old baths in Bath. It was sculpted by an Englishman in the late nineteenth century, almost certainly using a local model, because that is an English profile if ever I saw one.

The royal crescent. With seagull. The Georgians loved symmetry, and everything had to be symmetrical. I feel rather subversive taking this sweep of the crescent from one side, with the grass looking a bit lopsided, as though the seagull might slide down to the right.

Bath is obsessed with Romans. It was once a Roman town, and when the fashionistas of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries rediscovered it, they brought with them their obsession with classical culture and architecture. So Bath is a classical Roman town, rebuilt by English people out of local limestone. There’s a lot of angular pediments and sculpture, like this one, slowly crumbling away, because limestone is not marble.

We have a handkerchief-sized garden, and it doesn’t get a lot of sun. It’s also very windy.

So, Martin uses the kitchen windowsill as a kind of greenhouse, and then moves everything outside to sit in the sun when we get it. So this is a patch of garden with all the currently-growing juvenile plants, and the ancient watering can that Martin collects rainwater in.

Among the seedlings here is catnip. I have my doubts about its long-term survival, personally, but Martin doesn’t seem worried that he’ll look outisde one day to discover Oliver has torn up everything to get at the ‘nip.

Also along the canal there appear to be pirates.

On one side of the canal is the path, on the other side the properties go down to the water along a fairly steep incline. Each property has a long strip of garden which opens on to the water. They look like nice properties, with bigger gardens than most in the neighbourhood, and because of the canal, the gardens get more sunlight than the pocket-handkerchief gardens surrounded by two-story houses that most of us have.

Looking into people’s gardens is one of the joys of walking along the canal, and I have always wondered about these guys – they don’t seem very rapacious, or maybe they’re actually hackers, who knows?

is not like the other ones.

There have been ducklings for some time now, and I knew I had to go and photograph them. Of the four or so duck families on the canal, this is the only yellow duckling. THere is a pair of white ducks further dow, whose babies I haven’t seen yet – could this one be a changeling from them, I wonder?

While I was watching there was something of a squabble between him and some siblings, but he rushed over to the mama duck and she protected him, so at least he’s well loved by someone.

For as long as I can remember I have been fascinated by geometric patterns. I drew them constantly when I was a kid, and still doodle them all the time. My notebooks (which are square-ruled), are covered in doodles of geometric patterns.

I am fascinated by quilts and other evidence of patterns, such as this carpet, which lives in the living room. This is just the central motif – the carpet itself is about four times this size.

I also love the tiny amount of sky blue – it just lifts the whole thing up.

It’s been a while, a busy busy, sick and more busy while. Sorry.

Martin and I really like old bottles and containers. This one, he picked up from a fleamarket vendor in Rosebank and I suspect it still contains what it says on he tin, although we’ve never tested it.

Rosebank used to have a proper flea market, second-hand stuff, homemade cakes, old books, all sorts of enjoyable miscellania. Over the years, however, it has gotten posher and posher, and the last time I was there, last winter, it was all designer honey and artisan bread and handmade jewellery, still lovely in its own way, but not quite the same. Because of this, a kind of alternative flea market sprung up in the neighbourhood, next to Johnnic (now Avusa)’s offices. This is the real deal, second-hand clothing, old kitchen kit, and this old guy with the most interesting collection of stuff, including this, which has now traveled through three countries with us, breaking all sorts of laws along the way, we assume.