One of the many pleasures of blogging is the discoveries to which it can give rise. Last November, just before I went for my cataract surgery, I did a post about Bonfire Night as I remembered it from childhood.
In her comment, my next-to-youngest sister, who comments under the name of PolkaDot, promised to send me a scan of some sketches she had made one Bonfire Night when I was at university. This she soon did and I so enjoyed them that she sent me other drawings she had done as homework while studying art for O-Level.
Now one of the things I’ve never been able to hide is that the gene for artistic talent, handed down from our mother in particular, completely passed me by. My three younger sisters all showed considerable artistic talent, two of them studying it for A-Level and one (my next sister) at degree level. PolkaDot’s talent and inclination was particularly for architecture, which she went on to study at university.
I can’t draw a straight line without a ruler, and, sketched by my hand, a cow looks very like a dog, and vice-versa. I've been told many times that, with time and patience, most people can be taught to draw, but I still maintain I have the drawing equivalent of tone-deafness, which means I've always been filled with admiration for those who can draw and paint.
Apart from the two Bonfire Night sketches, the drawings my sister sent me are mainly of our childhood home and its setting on the edge of the Lancashire moors and I’m sure they will give you as much pleasure as they have given me. Remember when you look at them that she was 15 or 16 years old at the time she drew them and captured so well the people and places I knew and loved.
|My mother watching the bonfire flames|
|Looking down past the farm towards our cottage|
|Our kitchen - the heart of the home|
|Bury Fold, Darwen - 17th century farmhouse|