The twilight zone

Stepping off the train in this smart part of west London there’s such an oral-floral wallop from nearby Wheelers Flowers you can practically taste the hyacinths and freesias. The streets are tree-lined, fences freshly painted and the right recycling is in the right-coloured bin. Builders peer down from scaffolding for loft conversions, the postman is chipper and the lunch for pupils at Orchard House School smells nutritious. Fallen blossoms settle on the bonnet of red Audis. The short walk to my destination is just long enough for the sound of trains to fade. If it wasn’t for the plane trails chalking the skies above Heathrow Airport, you’d be forgiven for thinking you were in rural Oxfordshire.

I tried to buy pastries on my way but got flustered navigating the minefield of gluten-free, nut-free, non-dairy and vegan options. It’s just as well. Fine art photographer Julia Fullerton-Batten answers the door(LOFW), a series of portraits featuring Londoners in self-isolation.