I trundled in this morning with all my stuff - it takes a while to set up each day, and the staff at the Cafe Society are brilliant, and I try to keep mess to a minimum and work quickly. This morning, Tina, the owner, had arrived back from her holiday - she was away for 4 days, a testament to how hard she works, running two businesses - most people go away for a week, 8 days... two weeks. Not Tina. We had a chat, and she passed on to me some of the concerns her customers have - the raw meat I was using in my sculptures (if we can call them that, I reckon they're assemblages) was really offputting to customers. So, the first thing we agreed on was no more raw meat. That's okay by me.

So, 'Home is where the heart is' - and the heart had to be taken right out of it. This assemblage was designed to have a lambs heart sitting under the roof, and the gingerbread platelets and pasta evoked the beautiful shapes that can be found in microscopic photographs of blood. I thought an egg sandwich was a kind of homely food, and eggs are big on the agenda with me - my grandmother used to collect semi-precious gemstone eggs (about the size of  hens' eggs) and the egg as emblematic of a life-cycle is something that crops up regularly in what I do.

No heart in "Home is where the heart is'. The eggs were fried, not beaten or scrambled, but that's work for another day.