I’ve never been one for accumulating huge amounts of extraneous stuff. And certainly the pandemic has reinforced my long-held conviction that it’s not things, but people that matter the most in life.

However, being compelled to spend more time than usual in my little house in the past three months, has also made me more aware of how much I appreciate and enjoy having things around me that give me pleasure to look at. And how that’s as much about the memories and events they remind me of, as their appearance.

Special people and times

It’s not an exaggeration to say that, even on the darkest days (both literally and emotionally), being surrounded by items I love looking at, and that remind me of special times, places and people, sparks joy in me in a way that is like being given a metaphorical hug (which is even more welcome when the real ones are in sadly short supply).

These are a few of my feel-better favourites and the stories behind them.

My late husband was a national standard fencer. He competed in the British Under 21 squad and continued to fence throughout his adult life, including taking part in the Veterans World Championships in Australia, prompting a memorable trip there in 2007 to support him.

Just as every athlete has their own personal style, so he had a very particular way of standing ‘en guarde’ (fencing terminology is mostly in French, in acknowledgement of its French founding roots) at the start of each point and this sculpture captures his distinctive look to a tee.

More than that though

More significantly, and what makes this even more cherished for me, is that the piece was made by his mother, who was a wonderfully talented amateur sculptor.

Having such a poignant and powerful reminder of him, and his lovely mum, so unmissably on display (you can see the size of the sculpture from the level of the window frame. It’s hip height on me) is a deep and daily pleasure.

Another sculpture that perfectly encapsulates the other key relationships in my life, is this one.

It’s called Mother and Child, but I’m afraid I can’t remember who the sculptor is. What I can remember vividly clearly though, is where I saw and bought it.

Every summer when my girls were growing up, we would decamp to Cornwall (still one of my favourite places on earth) for a holiday that either started or ended with time spent with my oldest friend, who lives on the edge of Bodmin Moor.

As it was a long drive, I always broke it on the way there and back, and one year we stopped overnight in a hotel (the name of which has long been consigned to the ‘who-knows’ section of my brain) in Devon that had an art gallery attached to it. The hotel also had the most glorious grounds, which were a mixture of tended lawns and beds, and delightfully wild woodland.

An exhibition of sculpture

Our stay coincided with an outdoor exhibition of sculptures, with pieces dotted around the gardens and wood. This sculpture was sitting on a plinth in the more tended part of the grounds, and it’s not an exaggeration to say it stopped all three of us in our tracks. We were simply mesmerised by it.

It’s certainly one of the more unusual, and extravagant holiday souvenir purchases I’ve ever made, but one that I’ve never regretted. Every time I look at it, it reminds me of the all-enveloping strength and quiet, calming depth of the love a mother has for her child.

Not all the things I enjoy at are large.

These two little pots sit on the chest of drawers in my bedroom. Aside from the fact that I love their shapes, textures and colours, they each make me think of a lovely woman who I count myself lucky to have in my life.

The taller one at the back is a gift from a newish friend, a woman so stylish that her exquisite taste is something i could only ever hope to aspire to, but know I’ll never come near to achieving. Her home is so beautiful you could feel nervous being in it if it weren’t for her equally fabulous warmth and kindness.

I feel, absurdly I know, that having such a perfect little piece of her consummate good taste in my house imbues it with just a little sprinkling of her impeccable style.

You can’t choose your family

The smaller pot in the front was one of over two hundred (yes, you read that right!) made for my younger daughter’s wedding by my son-in-law’s super-talented mum (find out more about her and her amazing potting skills here).

They say you can’t choose your family and that’s certainly true when it comes to the people your children choose to marry. I count myself unbelievably lucky that both my sons-in-law are wonderful men who make my girls - and therefore me - hugely happy. But better still, they have both come with families who have embraced us with open arms and who have become much loved friends too. How blessed am I to have that?

Another holiday purchase that has a special place in my heart and home, is this one.

It’s a photograph of Camber Sands beach taken from the top of the dunes by local artist, Dave Purdie which i saw in his eponymous gallery in Rye (it’s not crinkled in the frame, by the way, that’s the reflection of the doorway it hangs in front of. Honest!)

Regular followers of These Are The Heydays will know that for the last two years, I have moved Heydays headquarters to an amazing house right on Camber Sands for two weeks in the summer. (Sadly I won’t be doing that this year, for a myriad of reasons).

Such a special spot

It’s a magical, huge sweep of coastline that I didn’t know before but which I have firmly fallen in love with (and which I WILL be returning to just as soon as I can). Dave’s fabulous photo perfectly captures everything about the vast stretch of sand, sea and sky that makes this such a special spot.

This hangs in the hallway directly opposite my bedroom door so I see it every morning when I wake up and every night before I go to sleep. And it never fails to make me smile.

Thank you for joining me on this virtual tour of a few of my favourite things. What do you have in your home that brings you joy and makes you think of someone, or somewhere special?