It is already week 3 of my nine-week residency, and you may be wondering how I said yes to such a long project, without sorting out my accommodation first? Well, to be honest, I have a lot of exceedingly fabulous friends in the Bath area, and I was hoping for the chance of catching up with many of them by sofa-surfing at their houses. Bit presumptuous, I know, but I really do know some exceptionally generous people, and it’s all working out fine.

For the first week I stay with Sarah and Steve. I met Sarah when I did my foundation Course at Bath College. She’s an absolute delight, and – as it turns out – much into making exotic cocktails. Well, colour me happy, I have a great few days. But then the poor things both get Covid, so I have to move on.

The following week I’m kindly given a room with Esme and Phil. I’ve known Esme forever. She dated my husband before I met him, and one of the best things he ever did was to stay friends with her. During one of our pre-dinner chats we talk about crap ex’s.

‘Everyone I know has a bad boyfriend in their past,’ I say. Then I pause. ‘The thing is, I married yours.’

(But then, you know, he got way better at that ‘being a boyfriend’ lark, so it’s all good.)

In week three, my old neighbours, Dani and Ozzy, offer me a room in a partly renovated flat – right in the city centre! Oh my gosh, yes. This Art residency comes with a very welcome wodge of cash that goes towards transport and materials. But I’ve already spent £90 on petrol and parking alone, so staying in town will be ultra helpful.

The flat is in one of those huge Georgian buildings that the Golden City is famous for. It is in a crescent (a crescent!) overlooking a green, that has an old Georgian sentry box on the corner. The houses here are made of honey-coloured limestone that was originally mined on the southern hills of Bath. Limestone is quite porous, so any graffiti here is a bugger to shift. And, it must be said that the sense of poshness associated with Bath extends to even the lowliest and crappiest of buildings. I pass a rundown, 70’s-style, concrete monstrosity of a building that bears this legend on it’s doors: Bespoke Refurbishment Opportunity. You gotta give them points for trying hard.

Now I’m so close to the studio, I can get in early every morning and get some work done. I’m still painting knives and arranging them in what I think are pretty patterns. And I’m very impressed with the guy at the DIY shop, when I quiz him about the best primer to use on razor blades.

‘How many have you got?’ he asks.

‘100,’ I say, hoping this doesn’t make me sound like I should be on some kind of Watch list.

DIY guy doesn’t miss a beat.

‘You’ll only be wanting a small pot then,’ he says, plonking one on the counter.

Now that I’m settled, this is my week for catching up with friends and family. I spend one brilliant evening in Bristol, with my son and his fiancee. We have a meal at the Watershed, right by the river, then go to see Everything, Everywhere, All At Once.

Why this film? Well, I have two beautiful step-daughters, but I didn’t raise them. No, I raised sons. Two of them, nine years apart. That means my history features a ridiculous amount of action movies, Sci-Fi/Fantasy, weird cartoons involving rats and frigging ninja turtles (a passion that, over time, morphed into Japanese Anime), anything that involved light sabres/magic rings/Harrison Ford with a whip/Bruce Willis in a vest/Helena Bonham Carter in anything, and masses and masses of Jackie Chan.

So it’s fair to say that they raised me, actually, and now I love a movie with lots of martial arts, weird parallel universes, and Jamie Lee Curtis sporting massive, wobbly, sausage-fingers. Was awesome.

I take a trip to the Fashion Museum with my mate Shula, which is always fun (even when I don’t get the chance to dress up in their costume section, like a six-year old).

They’re currently running an exhibition called What does fashion mean to you? Various people, including a whole bunch of savvy school kids, have chosen things to display. There’s a noticeboard on which are pinned dozens of postcards, the children having written their answers to that very question. I admire the bravery of the ones who’ve said it gave them a means of expression when they found themselves lost in a sea of self-doubt or difficulty. But my hands-down favourite answer is this: –

On Thursday I attend a book launch at one of Bath’s independent booksellers, Mr B’s. The book is the latest one from one of my tutors at Bath Spa University, Joanna Nadin. She is prolific and uber-talented and very inspiring and encouraging. She also has a friend called Ben who agrees with me that the only reason to be on Twitter is to follow Ryan Reynolds. I have a lovely evening meeting wonderful people and there are cupcakes with daisies on.

On my last night I babysit for Dani and Ozzy so they can go to see Michael Buble in concert. This is a bit of a treat for me too, as they have two lovely daughters – and seven Springer Spaniel puppies that were born the day my residency started! Little girls and puppies are a very winning combination in my book. We have to weigh each wriggling, floppy-headed mite, that now have names like Tiger-Lily and Pancake, followed by a shed-load of playing with Lego. Honestly, I can’t wait for another play-date.

And that’s it for another week. I drive home to pick up my mail and water my one spider plant, Ophelia the Monster (named after an actual spider). And count my many, many blessings.

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