I’d joined Greenwich Market in London right around Brexit, when tourism took a hit. It wasn’t the vibrant market I remembered growing up — not with the phased renovations, the scaffolding, and the constant building works. Probably not the best time to set up a stall… but despite all that, I managed to show up and secure a regular space. And the truth is, it wasn’t even guaranteed. You’d turn up with no certainty you’d be selected for a pitch that day — but somehow, I was neve

What do you do when you don’t know what to do? I stop, and I surrender. At some point I noticed I’m walking around with a combustion of energy twenty-four seven — eager to transfer it into creation. It’s so alive that if I could release it from my fingertip it would probably spark. I crave channelling it into my own work when I know what I’m shaping… and into someone else’s ambition when I can see their potential so clearly I want to help it come to fruition. Healing a wound.

On my train journey to meet a friend, I glimpse a Samaritan advert: “ There is always someone who cares. ” I shamefully — but intensely — think, that’s me. I ponder that I’ve seen those suicide-prevention adverts sporadically during my travels over the years and wonder: if I were in a vulnerable mental low state, could those words reach me? Would I believe they were true? I don’t think so — which is odd, because my natural passion for helping others, my matriarchal tendencies

When I walk into a corner shop, I don’t start reading the person behind the till’s love life — or hint that their partner’s having an affair. And the same goes for social interactions. I don’t meet people for the first time and ‘get to know them’ by predicting the answers to simple questions like how many siblings they have or what they do for work, just to impress them. That would be draining — especially when I could simply ask. And it wouldn’t feel respectful. From as youn

This particular memory takes me back to my early twenties, when I was helping others more openly — building confidence in my abilities whilst exploring what I was truly capable of. My cousin had organised a big girls’ weekend in Birmingham. It was all arranged: hotel, outfits, tickets to a venue. I was committed to showing up and enjoying what the weekend would bring… until the worst feeling hit me. Unexplainable. I waited to see if it would pass, but as the day drew close it

⸻ I remember… when I was growing up, I’d never keep jewellery for long, and I always wondered why I’d lose it. I was so cross with myself. I’d lose my earrings, misplace necklaces — often gifts — and I couldn’t afford to replace them. Looking back, I also wonder if some pieces needed cleansing, or if I was still learning how to carry what I valued… maybe even taking on things before they were fully mine to hold. Those early childhood memories made me think it was safer not to