I live at the end of a lane in rural North Shropshire, and most mornings start the same way — out in the fields with my four Cocker Spaniels before I've even thought about the workbench. There's something about that early quiet, just the dogs and the damp grass and whatever the sky is doing, that sets the tone for the whole day. I've always found it hard to separate the walking from the making. One feeds the other in ways I don't always notice until later, when I'm at the bench and I reach for a particular colour of glass without quite knowing why.The countryside feeds everything I make. The way light shifts across water, moves through frost, or turns the hedgerows a dozen shades of green finds its way into my work, especially in the glass — a material that changes completely depending on the light you hold it in. Dichroic glass in particular does something I never get tired of: it holds a different colour depending on the angle, as if it can't quite commit to one version of itself. I think that's what first drew me to it, and it still surprises me after all these years. Working with fused glass means no two pieces are ever identical, which used to feel like a limitation and now feels like the whole point.My Sewing Collection comes from a different kind of love — the quilting and sewing community is full of people who are just as passionate about their craft as I am about mine, and I wanted to make something that spoke directly to that. Turning a bobbin or a pair of scissors into a piece of sterling silver jewellery feels like a way of saying: what you make matters too. I've spent time at shows like the Festival of Quilts, and seeing someone pick up one of the sewing pieces and immediately understand it — laugh, or tear up a little — never gets old. These aren't just decorative objects. They're a small acknowledgement of how much skill and love goes into making things by hand, whatever that craft happens to be.I came to silversmithing through glass — I have a BA in Applied Art and an MA specialising in Glass from Glyndwr University, and working in the kiln had been my world for a long time before I started training at the Jewellers Academy. Learning to work in silver felt like learning a second language. The two disciplines think about material in very different ways, but they've ended up shaping each other in my work in ways I find genuinely interesting. The precision required in silversmithing has made me more exacting with the glass, and the spontaneity of glass-making has kept the silver work from feeling too rigid.Everything I create is handmade by me, from start to finish, using quality materials I source carefully. I fire the glass in my own kiln, cut and set it myself, and do all of the silverwork by hand. Every piece goes out in a jewellery box, ready to wear or to give as a gift without anything extra needed from you. I care about doing things responsibly, and I think being honest with customers is part of that — about materials, about dimensions, about the natural variation that's just part of handmade work. When you buy from me, you're buying directly from the person who made it — and that still means something to me.