All my life I've been a painter. When I was twelve, I was lucky enough to meet a professional painter who took me under his wing. He allowed me to visit his studio, encouraged me, gave me paints, canvas and brushes and, best of all, let me watch him work. He arranged for my work to be exhibited from as young as fifteen, where I sold my first painting. He often took me to private views, pointing out interesting points and the use of paint and colour. Over the years we kept in touch, this only coming to an end when he died forty years later.

The icing on the cake for me was, when I was a member of the Blockley art group many years ago, as a treat for the members, we were invited to submit our work "anonymously" for criticism from a professional artist, a terrifying experience. I was horrified when after what seemed like hours he asked "will the person who painted these works please stand up?" He congratulated me and said my work was of gallery standard - his only words! I just wish my old friend had been alive, I would have loved to tell him.

Painting has always been a journey for me, exhausting at times, but my way of life, and still is.

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