Mum was a prolific painter all through my childhood and teens and her pictures competed for wall space in every room of our house. Having grown up with her art it’s always been hard to know whether it was any good, or just “good, considering…”. I’ve uploaded a Flickr slideshow of her better pieces here.
At the age of 48 she suddenly put away her easel and deceided to focus her energies on ice skating and learning to ride instead. “There’ll be plenty of time to paint when I’m an old lady” she told us firmly. Dad thought she’d simply given up because of a bad review for her first exhibition, in the local paper.
Either way, Mum never did take up painting again. She died of leukemia in 1971 – shortly after her 50th birthday – on the night before my own 21st.
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