Walking through the front door of Georgia Coleridge’s London home is like stepping into a rainbow. Georgia is wearing a violet jacket and blue scarf, which zing against sharp yellow walls as her scarlet-socked feet pad along orange-striped matting and past coral curtains. We sit at a long, white-clothed table where vases of multicoloured gerberas nod in the sunlight next to bowls of oranges and lemons. ‘I love colour,’ she says. ‘It brings joy.’