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 he shares with his partner, interior decorator James Mackie, in the Cotswolds. “It’s got a Gloucester postcode so I suppose it’s Gloucestershire,” he says, but he prefers to describe it as being near the pretty waterside town of Lechlade-on-Thames. Naturally, the gardens here have been coaxed into a flamboyant floribunda wonder of rambling cottage favourites and lush greenery – a romantic look he’s been championing since training at the Royal Botanical Gardens at Kew before becoming the protegé of Sarah Raven. In the years since, he’s become the poster boy for gardening glamorously in pots and has written two books, much to the delight of his 

This April, Arthur’s third book will be published and – taking his other great passion as his subject matter – marks a bit of a departure: 

 is the story of his lifelong love affair with hens. His own beloved brood live in Nottinghamshire, where Arthur spends half his time – also in a cottage. “I’ve always lived in cottages,” he tells us, “and I hope that will always be the case.”

 Installing some ponytail copper-wire lights, which give a lovely warm golden glow and which I’ve draped over everything – especially mirrors. As soon as dusk descends, on they go, so I can feel like the 

 nymph I quite desperately wish I was. Happily, they don’t use much electricity and, with tons of them about, they do light up the place well.

A lovely jumper from Magee 1866, in Scotland. I don’t buy many clothes – I’m like a character from 

 in that respect, with a uniform of jeans if it’s a going-out day, or jogging bottoms if it’s a stay-at-home gardening-and-writing day.

 James has a very lovely metal tea strainer that I like to cram a handful of lemon verbena leaves into. Aside from that, scissors are my top tool. I am always losing them, so a good half-dozen need to be in residence. I cut everything with them – even slices of cheese for toast. I much prefer them to knives.

 Fruit juice, as I am a sugar addict and it gives me a good buzz. Thornton’s chocolate trifle and Rolo yogurts, if it’s a bad day. (And if it is, they aren’t there for very long.) Milk, as I’m also hooked on tea. I try to buy Yeo Valley’s, as its cows go out to pasture unlike a lot of herds now.

I can’t drink wine so gin is the thing. My favourite comes from 

. It’s distilled with banana and dandelion leaf. In fact, I must order another bottle. All in support of conservation, obviously…

 I have a print by Francis Hamel, of a pair of divine booted bantams – a cock and hen. They belong to the flock that greets visitors at Rousham House. Strictly speaking, though, it’s not on the walls – it’s under the bed, preciously wrapped in tissue and waiting to be framed.

 I don’t have a mantelpiece, but I do have knick-knacks scattered in a few places, including on my bookshelves. I particularly love my tiny and very lifelike chicken figurines, which I’ve had since I was little. They sit happily alongside a chocolate toad from Fortnum & Mason.

performed by the BBC Symphony Orchestra, conducted by Sir Andrew Davis.

 The snowdrops – nearly over – saved the garden from becoming a rather black-looking tundra this winter. They were massed together on the table in terracotta pots, looking like they were waiting for an 

Day by day, it’s all slowly awakening. Beloved by the bees as are the lime-green Corsican hellebores that are in full bloom now. Indoors, I have amaryllis, a trio of red-wine-coloured ones called ‘Mandela’, as well as the taller shooting-star-like ‘Green Magic’. For scent, I have lots of potted hyacinths; the bulbs will later be planted into the garden for next year. My favourite house plant, however, is an Erica sparrmanii, which is tall with great furry petals. I call him Shane, after the friend who gave him to me as a cutting.

Demons of mess. Too much cough syrup ­– I’m probably addicted to Piriton – though strangely never the right type when you need it. Many vitamins, bought to be taken daily only to remain unopened. Receipts. Old plant labels. Mints. Seed packets.

I do have one nice cupboard, though, which is that which the mugs live in. My favourites are those with hens on – the Eden Pottery one, with a sitting Sussex hen, and those by Catriona Hall, who draws especially plump and delightful individuals.

 Try and keep on top of the emails and diary. Pump up my bike tyres. Go to the dentist. Actually write a to-do list.

A Home with a History: fun and frolics meet rural relics in a former farm cottage in the Cotswolds

Grace Helmer

Leisure

The chicken-mad garden writer and designer has feathered his nest with beloved birdy trinkets and glimmering golden fairy lights. One thing’s for certain: it’s clucking brilliant

Home Comforts: Arthur Parkinson on all things fair and fowl

The chicken-mad garden writer and designer has feathered his nest with beloved birdy trinkets and glimmering golden fairy lights. One thing’s for certain: it’s clucking brilliant