I was last at art school in the 60s and if my memory serves me right, the art bit was not on the top of my priority list. I was then a recently released internee from a boarding school I was not terribly aware of the world.

In my first year at this art school I was allowed to have a go at everything, with a base layer of life drawing. The first time I’d ever seen a naked woman for life drawing, and this one seemed to be having a day off from being a traffic warden. I did work hard in this first year knowing that I needed to get into the degree course ( but in those days it was not a degree course, but a Diploma in Art and Design, sounded ok to me ) My older brother had gone to art college in Bolton the year before and came home with many life drawings of Mrs Austin, the resident life model there. My parents faces when they saw his work were a picture of surprise and amusement. Both parents had very respectable jobs as a teacher and police officer so having both their sons at art college might have seemed something a little bit out of their comfort zone. They were never anything other than encouraging to us both, and I salute them for that. Not once did they enquire how me might earn a living from a ‘proper job’

At the end of my Foundation Year at Manchester I applied to do the degree/diploma course at the same college. It was a surprise to my Tutor at Manchester that I got in, he could not hide his surprise, but was kind about it. Don Makinley was a fine artist, a bearded brutally honest man with a passion for drawing. He called my first life drawing ‘effing awful’, the shock to me drove me to improve.

I thought I might have I’d got in during the interview as when they asked me to describe a colour within a silkscreen self portrait set in my dismal Manchester digs as ‘landlady green’ , all three interviewers smiled which I’m sure helped.

However in my first year on the Diploma course, my efforts dropped away, my priorities had skewed, I defaulted to lazy.i was surrounded by talented people, many who went on to very successful careers in art and design, and loads of good looking women. It was the 60s! No wonder I lost concentration. Sadly they were less interested in me than I was in them. Then there was beer and football. I was in the home of Boddingtons and Manchester United at their very best ( no pun intended, but George featured in their regular line up ). So art was a poor fourth in my priority list. I scraped my diploma and it’s been in the same envelope now for for well over 50 years. No one has looked at it, including me.

The fact that I got it was incidental, and my subsequent career as a cartoonist/ illustrator was largely an accident. As was my more recent ‘career’ as a print salesman.

Well, I’ve just been back to art school. 3 days rather than 3 years, and this time the art came at the top of my priority list. I have for the past few years gone back to drawing land scapes, photographing possible subjects and gone back to dipping a pen into Indian ink. More recently I’ve tried to add colour to these landscapes and with mixed results. I’ve even tried to break free of the line drawings and build colour, generally soft pastels, to get a more nuanced look ( for nuanced, which sounds a bit ‘art bollocks’, substitute ‘better’ ) its not worked, they are a mess. So I booked myself onto a course at Bullclough Art School for three days of abstracting the landscape with tutor Rachel Cronin.

No interview for this of course, just pay your cash and find your way there.

There was a fear that this would be a collection of ladies faffing about with wishy washy and with lots of tea, chatter and cake. It was not the case. It was full on practical learning each day. I was surrounded by women ( actually I tucked myself in a corner ) but they were all hugely committed and frighteningly talented. To say I found it enjoyable is not really the right adjective at all. I’ve been dreaming of mixing colours and planning how to return to my landscapes and start again ever since. I can’t wait to get stuck into them. I’m like an old chest of drawers that’s been, scraped down, repaired and repurposed into something useful. I can’t wait to get back to the painting.

Not only that I stayed in a B and B nearby and was fed and watered by Vince and Clare. Three days of painting and drawing fuelled by some fine breakfasts and superb dinners. I’d go back there and no mistake. Fantastic.t

I’m writing this on my last morning before Waz, the Taxi man takes me back to Stoke for the train home.

All brilliant. 5 stars.