I trained as an artist, and loved it. I built huge ceramic pots, flirted with bronze casting, grappled with willow sculpture (!!), but mainly painted oils on large canvasses – the bigger, the better.
I began writing a few years ago for several reasons. The main trigger was that no one had written the story I wanted to read. No matter how good the novel, how wonderful the writing, the characters didn’t do what I wanted them to, and the plot wasn’t the one I had in mind. So I wrote it myself, secretively at first, on sheets of copy paper. The euphoria of being able to create any characters I liked, to put them into any situation I desired, was unexpected – and addictive. Since that first day, art has been sorely neglected.
Factoids about me. (Sorry, would far rather write about someone else, but apparently, it’s the thing to do, so here it is.)
Can’t abide routine. Easily bored, but also incredibly easily pleased. Dreadful (I mean abysmal) at housework. Hate shopping. Love good rock music – Smashing Pumpkins early stuff, Radiohead, Nirvana. Currently listening to Muse, My Chemical Romance, Billy Talent. All time favourite, David Bowie – a genius, and all-round wonderful guy. Not in the least interested in shoes (except perhaps Doc Martens), handbags, or chocolate. Love being out in the rain in my wellies. Love meeting interesting people. Love, love, love native wildlife, particularly butterflies, dragonflies, frogs, toads, newts. Inspired by principled people who try to save the planet, whilst idiotic politicians attempt to destroy it.
All artworks on here are my own, except my avatar, which is a sketch of me by my lovely aunt, Jan.
If you’ve read this far, you deserve a nice cup of tea.
Some of my pots – a bit old and battered now. They measure approx. 18 inches/45cms diameter. The bottom one was the first I ever made, outdoors in a raku kiln. Amazing experience. Still my favourite.