It is not entirely uninviting. Hunter has painted it with a quirky combination of faded colours, either in deliberate subversion of its imperial mood or because she could only get so much of each one. The result is a friendly bohemian muddle like a giant jigsaw which the visitor will be invited to put together. The door is thick and wooden, a proper door for a proper house. If Neith has one quarrel with the age in which she lives, it is the fascination with laminate and plastic over the resinous, organic solidity of wood. Doors should be a part of the home that speaks of life rather than engineering. This one does, emphatically, and the front steps are well worn. There was a flow of commerce here, even recently. Diana Hunter received and trafficked.