A friend who owned a café once handed me a large mirror that had fallen off the wall—frame broken, but miraculously, the glass was intact. It had the most beautiful patina of peeling silver, real silver, on thick 7mm plate glass. I was stunned—and thrilled to take it home. I kept that mirror safe for seven years. If breaking one brings bad luck, maybe not breaking it earns some kind of blessing?

It needed a proper frame—something bold and strong to suit its weight and history. Inspired by grand Renaissance paintings, I designed a multi-angled oak frame with simple ornamentation. But the real challenge was getting the black finish just right.

After failed experiments with malt vinegar and zinc plated screws (that turned the oak blue), I finally nailed it with a batch made from rusty steel and distilled vinegar. It smelled awful but turned the wood a perfect jet black; metal, not just in color, but in attitude.

Despite many moves, the mirror remains unbroken and now hangs proudly in my home. I mounted it with over-engineered care—no plastic plugs, just wedged wood and deep fixings-the kind of stuff that would make Fred Dibnah proud. It’s not going anywhere. And if it does—it’s taking the wall with it.