



Before my current flat, I lived in a teeny-tiny studio in Golden Lane Estate, in the City of London. I bought it after splitting up with a long-term partner who, along with a broken heart, left me with a flat full of mid-century furniture. This wasn’t an act of generosity—just an inability to deal with the situation.
There was no way any of it would fit into my new place, so I sold everything on eBay or to neighbours (thank you, Barbicantalk.com). My head was completely in “I have to move out in two months, I need to get rid of everything’ mode. Although I didn’t realise it at the time, it was, of course, a deeply cathartic process.
The only things I took with me were an Isokon Donkey and a Robin Day Chevron chair—both designed after the War with bijou apartments in mind.