Published!

Rich has worked really hard to be a good photographer. I’m a wannabe model and writer. Of all the members of the family to be published first in a real book (let's not get started on the web publishing argument again), we always thought it would be him or me. But no. We’ve been beaten to it!

Today I am the big proud Mama because my oldest son is going to be the first of our clan to be published. He has been invited to submit his artwork for publication in a local poetry anthology. His illustrations of a naughty donut-eating collie dog have gone down really well with the poet and the publishers. Alas the book isn’t going to make Amazon, but it’s certainly kudos!

Published at twelve! Whatever next? Currently he is positively “glowing” and his ego is so huge that it arrives ten minutes before he does. But we don’t care - we’re proud parents anyway!

Last Saturday I took my son to the local town barbers to get his hair cut. I waited alongside a row of other willing victims whilst the barber did his uber-trendy stuff. As he skillfully executed a number 5 all the way over, the barber conversationally asked my son what his favourite interest was.

“I’m an ARTISTE” he replied, looking exceedingly pleased with himself.

“Oh!” said the barber, boggled. “Are you any good?”

“Yes, actually, I am VERY good!” my son announced grandly in his best stuck-up posh-school accent.

The barber looked him up and down. His lips twitched slightly. “So what sort of art do you do?” he enquired politely.

“Surrealism,” replied my son proudly and I swear I saw his nose stick up further in the air. The barber and I exchanged looks. His eyes twinkled just a tiny bit. I desperately struggled to keep a straight face, whilst quietly willing the ground to open up and swallow me.

“And what’s surrealism?” asked the barber impassively.

“Dunno really,” said my son, panicking like mad, and then abandoning all sense of elitism and lapsing into a broad Norfolk accent. “Weird stuff I ‘spose, but my Mum says it‘s kinda cool.”

The whole shop collapsed into laughter at this point.

And his mother made a mental note to stop raving on about art all the time.



My son has steadfastly refused to let me display his art on the blog, where it apparently "might be seen by thousands of naked people" (clearly he thinks you are all reading this naked in front of your computers. I just want to point out that we do NOT do this at home, so I've no idea where that idea comes from). In fact he's now hidden his doggie drawings at school, so I can't seize them and scan them. So instead here's a human statue snap from Covent Garden last year, which deeply fascinated my kids.