Sweet sweet roses.

I was asked to put some flowers together for a wedding last weekend, so last Friday Lella and I got up at 4.30am and headed to the flower markets in search of some pretty blooms.

Before my first visit to the flower markets, I had imagined them to be a beautiful, serene place filled with rows of flowers and pretty coloured tents. My romantic fantasy was well and truly shattered when I realised the reality was quite different. The markets are dirty, wet, stressful and busy. The sellers are big men in leather aprons – some are nice and some are awful. The rows of flowers are there, but the dirty white buckets they're in are a long way from my pretty coloured tents.

If you've never been it's worth the trip. They sell flowers you could never imagine. Lella and I saw a bunch of beetroot coloured roses. I wish I had've bought them.

We spent the day putting together bouquets and discussing what our 'florist names' would be – I chose Felicity and Lella chose Anastacia. My house has smelt of roses all week. It's beautiful.