Most mornings start with an early walk around Paddington with my little French bulldog, followed by either the gym, pilates or a run. Then coffee with my husband and into work!

I’m usually working from home in my dressing room/office writing my columns, planning events, or testing recipes in the kitchen - otherwise I’m on site for an event, or in the studio. No two days are the same, but they’re always very busy - which I love.

And in the evenings - if it’s the end of the week, it will be cocktails and dinner out, if it’s midweek I’ll be having a bath and cooking dinner.

My social calendar is often as busy as my work one, so if I can squeeze a few quiet nights in with husband and dog I’m happy.

Well, as I seem to live and breathe hosting - my home is usually ready-made to host, pre-batched martinis in the freezer (always), freshly folded hand towels in the bathrooms, ice stocked, and full bar. That way you only need foliage, or flowers ahead of the evening.

It’s nice to have a bit of a theme for the night, something that will tie the evening together. So I like to start with that, then plan your cocktail, menu, music and foliage around it..

Oh yes, I’m constantly inspired, forever thinking of what’s next, and always, always dreaming.

No matter what I’m undertaking, almost everything starts with a sketch, be it a menu, a painting, or an event - and if it’s something I’m writing, I’ll start with dot points, which is like the literary equivalent of a sketch.

All three constantly inspire me, people, usually chefs, designers, artists - are a great source of inspiration. And in most places you can find something to draw inspiration from, but the obvious one would be travel - Paris seems to light the mind and palette up in ways other places can’t.

But really, there is inspiration everywhere if you look - I love people and life, and that allows me to find inspiration in even the dullest of places.

I actually recently wrote about this in my column for Esquire - you make the house a home. The layers of stories you bring to the walls are what make your house a home.

On a recent trip to Europe, I came home with luggage brimming with Murano glass, ceramic plates, vintage curtains and antique glassware. Each item, collected in a different city, brings with it a memory, of long lunches, late-night conversations, or dusty little shops where time seems to stand still.

That’s the joy of layering a space with meaning. On my Oslo coffee table, a book I made at art school now rests beneath an ashtray from a tiny northern Italian village. They’re lifetimes apart, but somehow perfectly at home together - neighbouring threads in the same emotional tapestry.