Living with Poppy has brought a lot of sparkle into my life, mainly because she’s so lovely but also because of her huge collections of sequins. Poppy’s a costume designer and a big sequin lover. This has inevitably meant that the castle is constantly covered with a thin layer of sparkly plastic disks.

For some reason I’ve taken to ticcing about them – bizarrely, mainly about how they meet their end:

“The bathroom’s where sequins go to die.”
“When sequins lose their sparkle they lie on the bathroom floor.”
“Sequin corpses scattered in the hallway.”
“Poppy’s a sequin serial killer.”

When Poppy’s mum was staying here at the end of last year she told me how, years after Poppy had left home, she went to the gym and when she was taking off her shoe a flurry of sequins fell out. This doesn’t surprise me at all!

I’m enjoying my tic’s take on our sequin-coated surfaces.