I also smoke on the balcony rather than indoors, enjoying our unique potted garden, smiling at passers by who always stop and stare, without fail, drinking coffee, sorting out my work agenda, reading a book or my RSS feeds. When the sun allows it (we finally have a brilliant, hot summer), I take my laptop out on the little pink table and blog.
My love picked the flat some two years ago partly due to its balcony, a rarity in London. He knew too well just how full of plants my balcony had been in Romania (you featured it back then) and how empty my life would be without green babies. He didn't say so, but I guessed, with the passing of time, and especially after the appearance of the pink table and blue chairs, a surprise gift from him accompanied by our first bubbly outside.
We then salvaged a few plants that were dying in a couple of old pots on the balcony, and started building, bringing in babies from many of our trips around the city and the country. On top of it some plants are gifts from his mother, others from my parents, some came from the Camden Council Give & Take day, or the odd flea market of the Cats Association in Foyle, a Cornish town. Time flew, and here we are, smothered in pots.
He calls our balcony the Hanging Gardens of Babylon for how it stirs people.
Recommended store, site, product or resource? Columbia Road Flower Market, The Eden Project (Cornwall), Marylebone High Street Farmers' Market