My maternal grandmother (Nana) was a primary school headteacher. Together with my grandfather, she lived with us when I was growing up and, probably to give herself a moment’s peace, she encouraged me to sit quietly and draw. I loved Berol coloured pens and must have got through dozens of them. Nana seemed to think it was unusual for a five year old to colour-in up to the edges or have the subject matter of the drawing (usually of the equine variety) appearing from stage-right rather than sitting in the middle of the page. I suspect this is more an indication of a child who thinks she has a never-ending supply of ink and a fear of the back-end of horses, rather than artistic genius. I have included an example of an early drawing which my mother deemed sufficiently good to keep, so you may make up your own mind. Drawing before school was something I did until my mid-teens when sleep became more appealing.
