Where does your love of flowers and the natural world come from?

The same catalyst as my music really. My parents. We were lucky enough to have a beautiful garden growing up, and parents who cared about what was outside of their and their children’s back door. Lots of rain and lush green grass in Staffordshire too, and the odd few hours of sun to tempt the men dressed in white away from their tuna and cucumber teas and the bluebells out of their slumber. I remember as a child spending quite a bit of time at garden centres. Now, when I say garden centres, I mean a place where you buy plants, and, at the very most, a bag of compost to go with. Not all of the frills. Not the organic gins and thirty pound veg baskets. But, as a youngster, I suppose it might not have been the most exciting way to spend your weekend. However, for me I can’t ever remember thinking that, but then again, as a twelve year old girl, accompanying her Dad on his ‘bring your daughter to work day’ I also cannot remember telling him at the end of the day, ‘Dad, if they ever ask if you’d like to do that again, please say no.’ Ouch. I’m sorry Dad. However, I do remember tip -toeing over the sleepers of a particular nursery north of the city, who’s owners voice was as rough as some of my cold winter London hangovers. But what a voice. A voice that stays with you like a good song. Good old Derrick Thursfield.

Oh, and I forgot to mention Barlaston The place I have now returned to. I spent many a sunny day (you know those odd days I mentioned before). Well, when they did happen, me and my brother and cousins would all pile into my grandparents car and illegally (I have a few cousins) travel but a few miles down the road to ‘The Downs’. A place that could not fail to instil a sense of self. A sense of belonging. You cannot be lost if you remember the simplicity of your childhood memories of the downs. The smell of the ferns in the heat. The skip of your heart when you realise you’re chasing your cousin way too fast for your tiny legs, down the dry, knee-scorching grass. The view of the stepping stones - a guarantee of hours of fun. What a place. What a really beautiful place.