There's a problem though. I'm feeling really sad as I paint. For more time than I'd like to admit, my bedroom has been a deep shade of terracotta. Cozy and warm; rich, deep and mysterious, where I am surrounded by quilts and books and peace; my space in a house full of light; my naughty little secret.
The BBC website says we have just had the third warmest March on record. I'm sitting here watching the snow pass almost horizontally in front of my window.
Spare a thought for me as I steel myself to paint out the last little bit of my terracotta boudoir.