This little porcelain dish is made to fit in the palm of an open hand.  It’s part of a collection which is a secular offering in memory of Sophie D. who was a teacher, a great gardener and a wise, consoling friend.

A trio of friends visited her husband Michael in Wiltshire on a bright spring day in March. A legendary film maker, writer and campaigner, he mustered a fine lunch and conversation covered innumerable topics. Later I walked around the garden, remembering the tender, marvelling way Sophie showed me each plant, and the primroses she loved, massed under the mulberry tree.

I picked a few, wrapped them in foil but arriving back in London, forgot them in Sasha’s car.

When Sasha and I next meet, she hands me an envelope containing a small wooden flower press. Seeing the flowers I’d left, she rushed the next day to buy the press for the primroses, and re-gifted them to me.

In turn, I lay the flowers onto the porcelain, a guide to hand-painting their outline and delicate colours. These dishes carry the traces of primroses planted by my friend perhaps 30 years ago.