My story.


Hello! My name is Sarah, and I live in Lincolnshire with my husband, our young son and two cats, Lewis and Hathaway.

I love my home but we don’t live in a stone farmhouse with chickens running in and out of the kitchen. We live in a suburban 1950s semi, squat garden, average street, undesirable part of the country.

I love cycling, but I don’t wear Lycra or ride round on a celebrity-endorsed carbon-fibre machine. Mine’s old, shonky, inexplicably heavy, has a basket, and Blu-tacked on front lights.

I love gardening, but most of the things I grow survive through a combination of benign neglect and a will to survive against the odds.

I love my House with the Blue Door. It’s a wooden chalet behind the dunes along the Humberston Fitties in Cleethorpes and enjoy the shifting sands and spectacular Lincolnshire skies. Here my family can escape. But, it’s not a gite in France.

I love journalling. Calligraphy, pen and ink drawings, musings, documenting. But I’m not Teesha Moore.

I love minimalism, it’s a great as a concept and something to aspire to, but less easy to achieve with a five-year-old whose favourite hobby is filling your floor space with toy cares, all parked in a herringbone pattern, that you are NOT, repeat NOT allowed to move.

I try to embrace and love the ordinary, to be grateful for what I have, unglamorous though it may be, it as an antidote to the modern mantra of ‘be more and have more’.

I currently work as a journalist for a railway publishing magazine and volunteer at a community allotment. The House With The Blue Door is about what I do when I’m not working with words, but working with my hands and my imagination instead. After all it’s how we spend our days that make up how we spend our lives, and I enjoy spending my time drawing, crafting, gardening and hand lettering, making the most of a tatty rectangle of south-facing garden in one of the more forgettable areas of the UK!