My apartment

"I would ruin this place if it was mine," my friend declared, as she looked at the bare walls of my living room.

In her context, she probably would. Friend is a fan of William Morris stained glass and foliate ornament. Guests to her house are hard-pressed to find a square inch of spare wall to hang their hat or anything else upon. Ironically, it was Morris who didsained the Victorian cult of things or, to be more accurate, manufactured things. The wallpapers and furniture from his craft workshops were fine to use - but I am not here to be hoist upon the idiosyncrasies of Morris.

I am a creature of the times - our times. I love shining, clear and uncluttered surfaces. I love clean lines, unadorned furniture and gleaming appliances. An interior should be an envelope through which we can glide, unhampered by ornament, frills or flounces, I always find.

In my apartment, my surfaces are just the right height, my bed just the right length. I don't have to walk too far from one room to another, yet I have this wonderful sense of space - something to do with the unpatterened walls and floors, maybe? If you loathe modernism/minimalism/functionalism, then my apartment wasn't built for you.