Where does the time go? Why can I remember so little of it? *Paul Weller, Town Called Malice Look at that photograph. The happy smile of a fulfilled, contented dad at the end of a summer’s day. Me and all four kids in our back garden, taken by my lovely…

Drawings from life, foreshortened — I had a great response to my story “My Five Favourite Nudes” which featured a small selection from my many hundreds of life drawings from the last forty years. So here are another five for your delight and delectation, and to keep myself busy. All of the following would have…

There’s no denying it, she’s been a pain in the arse from the day we got her. A six year old rescue cat to replace our beloved Bonny when she died nearly four years ago. Gwen, as my wife named her, was an almost replica of Bonny and I can’t…

Our European Dream I’ve never been able to put my finger on it, but every time I think of Europe, the same scene pops up in my head. It’s a snippet from the black and white TV series The White Horses and has the lead character (a young woman I…

I’ve lost Ac-sheee! I cried. By the age of seven I was fully practiced in the art of getting my mother’s attention. I employed my full, tried and tested repertoire: The wheedling cry A dramatic catch in the voice An insistent tone Repeat the above until noticed. What are you…

Its indistinctness speaks volumes to me. My very first oil painting from 1984 would have to be a self portrait. As an art student I often experimented with new media in my bedroom, where I would usually be the only available subject matter. Consequently I have several self portraits from…

It had a bomb shelter. And a pond with newts. I couldn’t believe we could afford it and, truth be told, was yet to be convinced. The move in had been difficult. March 24th 1994, a beautiful spring that found our little family blooming. Evan was one and a half…

The colours of my life in chronological order My mother’s grey eyes; my father’s brown arms; Binky’s blue and yellow self; red Christmas tree bunting with white cottonwool snow; purple Ribena; a stubby, light-green pencil; pale yellow primroses; the dark brown and black patches on my dog, Beano; poor Cock…

Ei ban, give us an anch then! No. Just because you’ve eaten yours already. Aww go on mun! I tore off an inch of dark green leaf and gave it to my friend to shut him up. He ate it with affected relish, his eyes watering at the strong flavour…