Turning 31, journaling and garden joy

"And then, one fairy night, May became June."

Jun 13, 2025

Oh dear readers, it’s been a hot minute! I started writing this post the day after my birthday on the 1st June, and clearly it has not materialised in its fullness until now, almost midway through the month. Never mind. It’s a long one, so strap in, grab a cuppa, let’s catch up!

May was undoubtedly the busiest month of 2025 so far. I travelled, I gardened, I frantically tapped away at this very laptop with a cup of earl grey tea and a half eaten biscuit by my side. It was one of those working periods that felt intense, but also deeply gratifying.

And then, June. My favourite month, the arrival of which also signals my turning 31. I did nothing but spend a lot of quality time with family and friends. Joyous.

How are you, lovely readers?! Where am I finding you on this balmy June morning? I hope the first six months of 2025 have brought you some joyful moments. If you’re remotely interested in how my summer is going so far, keep reading and I’ll tell you all about what’s been happening over here.

A birthday at Charleston

Birthdays are a funny thing, aren’t they? I have learnt over the years to keep mine as low key as humanly possible, otherwise I get too overwhelmed by it all. It’s so wonderful to be showered with kindness and love, but equally I feel undeserving of it, and very anxious to make sure that everyone knows how grateful I am for their cards and gifts and lovely messages.

This year, James booked tickets for us to visit Charleston House in Firle, near Lewes, the country home of artists Vanessa Bell and Duncan Grant. The farmhouse itself, with almost every surface, textile and ceramic painted by its inhabitants who found creative retreat and sanctuary there over more than five decades, is utterly absorbing: but the place I most wanted to spend time in was the walled garden that lies beyond.

Oh, I am still thinking about that garden as I sit here at my desk. It is simply the most perfectly formed cottage garden, overflowing with every whimsical, colourful, wild and wonderful flower you could possibly imagine: foxgloves and poppies and daisies springing up so close to the pathway that you can barely fit through, climbing roses and fuchsia dripping from branches overhead. I couldn’t stop staring at it all.

It was so special to walk those crunchy gravel pathways that Vanessa herself walked, to spend time in the garden that she slowly and purposefully brought back to life. Fittingly, her bedroom looks out on to the walled garden, a set of french doors separating her from the swathes of vivid greenery and flowers; the straw hat she wore in her famous 1958 self portrait lays casually discarded on the bedspread, as if she just popped out for a walk or next door to the studio to paint.

I truly loved every minute of it.

Garden update

It’s been a month of peaks and troughs in the garden. The slugs decimated one of my dahlias in the course of one fateful night, their slimy little trails glistening all over the tatters of leaves that were left behind, but the other one seems to be OK so far and has now started to bud. Fingers crossed it actually blooms!

James and I finally bought a strimmer to trim our grass, and his dad Neil gave me a tomato plant and a courgette plant, both of which he has grown from seed. The colourful bedding flowers I bought are creating a lot of brightness and joy in their pots, and the thunbergia that James’ mum gave me is flourishing too, swathes of yellow flowers with black centres curling up and up.

But the most exciting news of all? In a pot that had been sat dormant by our shed since we moved in, neglected by the previous owner and containing what appeared to be a bunch of dead radish leaves, suddenly bloomed an abundance of tall, glorious foxgloves. Foxgloves, my favourite wildflower. As you can imagine, I was beside myself with joy. Where did they come from? Seeds blowing over from the nearby fields and woodland? Some kind of cross germination? Who knows, but they’re in my garden now and I couldn’t be more thrilled about it.

Finding the joy in journaling again

I have never been someone who writes in a journal consistently. I dip in and out, writing mainly when I need to get something down on the page and release its grip on my brain. Before my birthday, I hadn’t written for quite some time: and then my mum bought me the Mirrorwater journal by

Estée Lalonde

, and I haven’t stopped scribbling since.

In this period of intensity in life and in my work, where I am feeling so incredibly grateful for it all, creatively inspired and overwhelmed by the ever-growing length of my to-do list, journaling has never felt more important or valuable to me.

I force myself to take my time when I journal now, writing first thing in the morning or before I go to bed when I can’t think too deeply or analytically about it. Often, I feel an innate pressure to get the words out as quickly as possible, but I’ve found that it’s much more helpful and grounding to take my time over each word, to savour those moments where it’s just me and the page.

This practice has been so helpful and so grounding in a time when I have sometimes felt as if my life is running off without me.

In other news…

There have been so many joyous moments and highlights in these tentative first few weeks of summer that I feel like I’m forgetting most of them, so here’s a quick list:

A lot of travelling and gorgeous events with my wonderful authors - most recently, a lovely event at my second home Waterstones Piccadilly to celebrate the publication of Francesca Segal’s second novel in the Tuga trilogy, Island Calling
A nostalgic weekend in Stratford-upon-Avon with my mum
A birthday BBQ at my parents’ house in beautiful warm sunshine, complete with a Colin the Caterpillar cake of course (plus, I drove there! Go me!)
Speaking of driving, I am feeling more and more confident every time I get in the car. Every lesson feels like such a win, and I leave feeling on top of the world because I’m actually doing it, I’m learning to drive.
An evening at Hatchards to celebrate Helen Carr’s new book Sceptred Isle, where I also got to meet wonderful Jeany, founder of Mirabeau (yes, the iconic rosé brand - I was v starstruck to say the least, but she couldn’t have been a warmer or friendlier presence)
A morning filming with the brilliant team at Hive Salon in Tunbridge Wells
A Friday afternoon lunch date in London with James, with a pretty spectacular view (and an excellent pre-lunch drink spot in Bermondsey called Vine)
A lovely Sunday afternoon baby shower for our friends, and my first attempt at making a bouquet with foliage from our own garden for the occasion