My nanny, Kerry, comes at 7.30, by which time I’m usually looking like a loony in my nightie and my wellies, trying to find the puppy, who’s shot through the fence. I grab a cup of tea and a bowl of cereal while the nanny feeds the children and gets them dressed. In the winter I wear a lot of blacks, browns and taupey colours; in summer it’s whites and neutrals. My clothes have to be simple, because there’s never enough time to decide what to wear.
With four children, three dogs and three ponies, you have to be organised or everything becomes a complete muddle. I’m good at putting things back in their places. Everyone assumes my house is going to be white from top to bottom. It isn’t, but I do believe some things should always be white — like sheets, towels, table linen and china. Our walls are painted a soft cream with punches of colour in each room. My life is so hectic that home has to be a tranquil place.
Running a company is a rollercoaster and there are times when it’s incredibly stressful. I’ll work every hour God sends, then on top of that someone will be ill and I’ll be up all night clearing up sick. The whole pack of cards can topple very quickly. I’m lucky in that I’m often able to work around the children. I try to either take them to school or pick them up, and I often stop work in the afternoon to have tea with them. I work in London Tuesday to Thursday, and spend Mondays and Fridays at home. My housekeeper, Annie, arrives at 8.30; she shops for us and keeps on top of the washing, ironing and cooking. She knows exactly what we like and I just leave it all to her. She is a godsend and I couldn’t manage without her. When I was growing up our house was chaotic. My mother was really only interested in her horses, so the stables were immaculate, the house a tip. She always felt it’s more important to spend time with the family than hours slaving over a meal, and I’m the same. Every ounce of energy I have left after work I want to spend on the children.
I have a Pilates teacher twice a week because my back is so bad, the result of a childhood spent falling off horses and an accident a couple of years ago. I was dragging a roll of carpet out of the garage and I fell back onto a concrete block, smashing my coccyx. I’ll never forget lying in the most sickening pain, thinking: “I’m never going to walk again.” Your life really does flash before you, and it was at that moment I realised I had to make some drastic changes. Since then I’ve tried to focus on building up a good management team so I can concentrate on the stuff I really enjoy.
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My passion is the brochures, and the look and feel of everything. If we’ve got a new range of towels, I’ll try them straight out of the packet, then bung them in the washing machine two or three times. I’m looking for softness, luxuriousness, absorbency. A great towel should feel soft and fluffy but also take the water off your skin straight away. The children are always trying out clothes. They come to me with ideas now. Indie wanted a pair of pyjamas with hearts on, so we’ve made some for autumn. The idea for The Little White Company, our range for children, began when I had Tom and I couldn’t find bedding that didn’t have Power Rangers or football strips on it.
We’ve got 18 stores in total now and I try to visit them as much as possible. I love watching the customers and how they shop. If they put things down, I desperately want to rush up to them and say: “Why didn’t you like that?” I’m a shopaholic myself and I learn about the psychology of shopping all the time.
Lunch might be cold meat and salad or pasta in the kitchen, or a chicken sandwich at my desk if I’m in London. I’m actually quite a scatty person. At home, Nick and I share a large desk, and my side of it, plus the floor, is piled high with files and papers. I’m constantly ripping ideas out of magazines and leaving them lying around, which drives Nick crazy.
I bath the children, then they come down and have their milk and stories. Supper is whatever Annie has cooked or leftovers from the children’s tea. Nick and I are a couple of mail-order bores. Sometimes I think we should put a lock on the office door, because once the children have gone to bed, there’s a tendency to head back there. Weekends are sacred, though. The girls ride and muck out their horses and swim in the pool, and work is banned until Sunday night, when I check my e-mail.
Life is so hectic I sometimes think: “Crikey, I’m going to go grey!” My bath is my “me” time and I’m in there for hours, testing candles and thinking. I’ve had periods over the past 12 years when I’ve been completely unable to sleep, but I’ve learnt to unload my worries before I go to bed. We’ve got pinboards everywhere. Often I think of something late at night and pin it up. When I’ve written something down, I feel I’ve parked it. I’m rarely awake at 10.30pm. If I don’t get eight hours’ sleep a night I feel pretty desperate.