As many of you know, I have spent this week in the lovely town of Woodstock, on the edge of the Cotswolds. I’ve filled a beautiful listed building with things I love. Some are decorative, many are functional. I hope they are all beautiful. Each piece carries a history.

I have tried to create a welcoming, serene space for you to enjoy.

A question I’ve been asked again and again this week, and often before, is “Does your house actually look like this?”

The answer is yes and no.

I live in an old farmhouse. Many of the original features were stripped out a century ago, but an old Victorian pantry remains, along with flagstone floors and rough limestone walls. Just enough to hint at its former life.

I live with my family, and all that that entails. But at its heart, it is a home that holds only the things I love. Nothing is there to fill a space. Everything has a purpose, a memory, or is simply something I want around me. I keep things fairly simple, though I do love faded pattern. Antique rugs are everywhere.

Much of what I own is inherited, and the memory of those objects in another time, another place, comforts me more than I can say.

For me, a home should be convivial and comforting. A safe haven. I socialise a little, and it matters to me that friends and family enjoy being there. Life revolves around the kitchen table. Eating, working, talking. It all happens there.

So what makes a kitchen feel inviting? What are the objects that can be both used and loved? This is only my view, though it is a look that appears again and again in those kitchens many of us admire.

Big wooden chopping boards. Ditch the plastic - wood is both hygienic and beautiful. A board laid in the centre of the table with cheese or charcuterie, a glass of wine poured, and the evening settles into easy conversation.

A touch of copper. A set of French saucepans, perhaps, or a simple planter. Copper brings warmth and a sense of history. Hung from a rail or resting on a shelf, it should be used. Gently tarnished or freshly polished, it works either way.

Brass candlesticks. Whether modest Victorian ones or something earlier, candlesticks belong in a kitchen. Candlelight is soothing. Don’t save it for guests. Mark the end of your busy day with it. Eat by it. I’ve noticed my own family lingers longer when candles are lit.

A generous jug. Every kitchen is better for flowers or greenery. A few branches from the garden are enough to bring colour, scent, life.

And art. Remove the kitchen clock. Hang pictures instead. Art reminds us that the kitchen is not merely for preparing food, but for living in. Images you might not choose elsewhere can look entirely at home clustered on a kitchen wall.

Wood. Copper. Candlelight. Flowers. Art.

For me, the recipe for a stylish, welcoming, restful kitchen.

Love,

Kate x