Is there such a thing as door envy? Every one is, arguably, an intrigue in its own right. At once an invitation and a barrier, each is a portal calling for attention.
Particularly pretty doors, though, seem to do more; they tell stories in their own right, leaf-wrapped and clad in colours straight out of nature.
Imagine, for example, a pair of bears living side by side. Paddington and a pal might well occupy these adjacent properties, I like to think, what with their storybook situation beside the river Thames – not to mention the homely hues in which their hinged hatches are coated. Doubtless an ideal spot to make marmalade sandwiches, best shared seated together on the steps.
So, while my own door is an opening to a place I call home – for now, at least – I nevertheless ogle with wonder the enticing entrances which form both frame and painting on many of the city’s buildings.
See the streets as a gallery and doorways the artwork, subtly set with white borders into brick walls which eclipse in scale yet emphasise in saturation, and you’ll find your neighbourhood soon becomes a source of fascination, every door the start of a story.