The healing power of animals and nature.

A quick sketch of JESSIE sitting between my legs….pencil/watercolour

In 2005, out of necessity, I moved from Crickhowell Wales to Barnes in SW London. My elderly Mother’s health was failing which meant it was not practical for me to commute to her home in Kent from Wales. On top of that a project I had worked on for several years fell apart…which was devastating….(another story for another time)

In 2007 a friend asked if I would be interested in house/animal/studio sitting for a relative of hers who lived not too far from Brussels. I jumped at it. With easy access to the Euro Star I would be able to get back to my Mothers in Kent within a few hours… and so off I went on a new adventure.

Two of my charges…Spuggy and Raisin.. Spuggy is still alive and well and living in the south west of France…

Spuggy and Raisin were to become my muses and constant companions during two lovely summers. Along with the PUPS I looked after Jessie (header sketch), Iccle the stone deaf white cat and chickens. They all became my companions and models.

For anyone who knows me they will recognise my signature watercolour palette on the table in front of the PUPS. This photograph was taken in the studio – where I was also able to work on large canvases. The PUPS never left my side and throughout my stays at Chemin du Gros I filled up numerous sketch books dedicated to Raisin, Spuggy, Jessie and Iccle…..oh and of course the beautiful chickens…

After Suzy my host met me at the Brussels Euro Star station we drove about 45 minutes back to Chemin du Gros, Lasne where I would be staying. Set in lovely grounds, it was the perfect place for me to regain my strength.

Jessie the older dog was as Suzy explained on her last leg….I was told that the vet was on alert and that I was to expect the possibility of her death. It was very difficult for her to get around and she certainly couldn’t get up and down stairs…and so I set out to make Jessie’s life as comfortable as possible. In fact Jessie was just what I needed....a little being to love and take care of who in turn took care of me and removed me from myself!

One of hundreds of quick sketches of Iccle the Cat who lived in a silent world of her own.

Iccle, the great survivor is also still alive and well in SW France….and still as deaf as a post.

I quickly got into a daily routine….of feeding the animals, painting and communing with nature. After the morning routine I would go to the studio with the PUPS and Iccle to paint for the day….absolute bliss. I could feel the tensions leaving me as each day passed.

Meanwhile Jessie would snuggle up In her bed in the kitchen with a hot water bottle and a blanket…..later in the day I would give her a shower which she loved, We quickly became attached.

The chicken coop was at the top of the garden – a place where I would go to sketch and collect eggs twice a day.

As I would enter the coop I was fascinated by the activity of the chickens and the beautiful diffused light….which I attempted to capture on this large oil on canvas.

Chicken coop at Chemin du Gros.

It was one of those paintings that poured out of me.

It so happened that Chemin du Gros was one of the oldest properties in the area….where the Battle of Waterloo was fought, and somehow unconsciously the feeling and atmosphere of this painting reminded me of the Battle of Waterloo with its frenzy and colour…….

By the end of the summer, I had produced numerous large canvases and hundreds of sketches. I felt refreshed and renewed. As is always the case for me, Mother Nature and animals were such an important healing element.

I felt centered again…..as opposed to being fragmented and off kilter.

Steps in the garden at Chemin du Gros.

When Suzy and the family returned from South Africa they were amazed to see that dear Jessie looked ten years younger and for that matter so did I….

Jessie and I had loved and nurtured one another and although Jessie died six months later, I always feel that during our time together so much healing happened for both of us.

In 2007

Interconnections…..

Contrary to this header picture, my post begins on a mule farm in Lancaster Country Pennsylvania. My daughter and I were visiting good friends Gary and Helen Stapleton for a lovely summer’s bar-b-q. Gary and Helen were key in the international Mule community. The year was 1989.

It was a beautiful summer’s day, with Amish working the fields around us. Garry and Helen as always were wonderful hosts and people of all ages were enjoying the day.

I was introduced to a lovely young English girl who was spending six months travelling around the USA. She came from a village in Derbyshire where mules also played a big part in her life…hence the connection with Gary and Helen.

She happened to say that she recognised the perfume I was wearing……because a friend of hers in the same village where she lived in England wore the same brand. So far interesting but not earth shattering. (By the way I am someone who always wears a dab of perfume…even if I am digging ditches or smothered in oil paint….)

Then she said the friend’s name was NOTTY HORNBLOWER…. and that Notty ran a costume museum in the village…..

A name never to be forgotten………

Back to the picnic, cats, dogs, mules and much fun……..

Remember this is years before social media and indeed internet connections in everyone’s homes…and so there was no running back and googling this person. My daughter and I continued to enjoy the day along with everyone else.

Fast forward to 1993 when I returned to my family and home in the UK – initially staying with my cousin Lyn and family in Crickhowell Wales where I continued to live and work for twelve wonderful years.

My Uncle, cousin Lyn and me in Glangrwyney just outside of Crickhowell.

My Aunt Pat (my father’s sister) and my Uncle in Glangrwyney

Shortly after moving back to Wales, a friend of my cousin Lyn’s invited us to a lunch and party at her home. Here we are together enjoying another lovely summer day. Mary in blue, cousin Lyn in the middle, and me.

After the other guests had arrived a beautiful buffet lunch was served….and as I waited to gather my food….I talked with others enjoying the party at which point …..a very glamorous lady came up to me and started chatting….She said her name was NOTTY HORNBLOWER….………!

It was of course the same Notty Hornblower whose name I had first encountered on the mule farm in Pennsylvania…..There couldn’t possibly be two Notty Hornblowers……and we were both wearing the same perfume….

To this day Notty and I have continued to exchange Christmas cards – with catch up letters about our cats, art and lives in general….I am determined to go and see her in Ashbourne, Derbyshire….and visit her fascinating museum.

A photograph of Notty and her husband Chris around the time that we met in person.

The point of this story is that when we meet people we never ever know what connections there might be.

I totally go along with the ‘six degrees of separation’ concept….and have had many experiences similar to this one…..but to date I have only met one Notty Hornblower:)

Notty’s museum can be visited at HOPE HOUSE, ALSTONEFIELD, NEAR ASHBOURNE, DERBYSHIRE, DE6 2GE. WWW.HOPEHOUSEMUSEUM.CO.UK

It sits in the beautiful Peak District National Park….a great place to visit.

The Chair in Mas Cabardes appeared like a mirage…..

Rapid watercolour sketch of chair in house at Mas Cabardes France

All the sketches in this post are rapid watercolours taken from one of my many sketchbooks.

I arrived at the house in the village of Mas Cabardes during early evening hours. I had taken the train from Paris to Carcassonne, where I took a local mini bus up into the beautiful Montain Noir area to the village.

After retrieving the house key from the local Epicerie ….I walked into a house flooded with the light of the South….and there in one of the rooms was a chair…like a mirage….totally integrated into the light and colour surrounding it. The chair fit like a piece of a magical jigsaw puzzle.

I knew that I was in the right place…

And then there were the cats……

Everywhere I looked…..

Snuggling cats….

Definitely my kind of place….

Steeped in the heart of Cathar country….a feeling of history and spiritual energy emanated from this place……

Craggy cliffs, some with old forts aloft…..a place that had not changed in centuries. followed by a view from one of the hallways in the house….looking out.

I spent quite a bit of time there alone and then returned at a later date when I spent more time with the locals.

Sophie, one of the local children.

Jaques who came to watch me paint….

I plan to use images from other sketchbooks as triggers for new posts.

Janet

It’s time to Open the Doorways to our minds so that we can adapt to our changing world.

capturing shadow play on courtyard steps in Olhao Portugal – watercolour.   Disappearing steps symbolise for me – the unknown….If ever there is a place that is conducive to exploring the creative process….it has been the school in Olhao, Portugal where I have been fortunate enough to teach for quite a few years.      A place I had come to think of as a second home….

Situated in the middle of the old fishing town of  Olhao, and just a few minutes walk from the waterfront, market, shops, cafes, restaurant, etc. this school has allowed those who have visited to completely immerse themselves into the creative process.

After being met by Nuno at Faro airport, 20 minutes later we enter the School house.    It is in this inviting  space that so many freshly cooked meals have been served and enjoyed ….all overseen by the beautiful Margarida and Joanna.   It has also been a place of many interesting conversations and much laughter:)Margarida looking up from one of the lower courtyards.What is it that makes a place conducive to the creative process?    

I believe there needs to be a sense of harmony and cohesiveness.    I find that when people are running all over the place, never settling…there is fragmentation….which in itself can destroy the flow of creative thought and production.

The School has given us this, a sense of harmony and cohesiveness.  

When a new doorway between the School and Pool houses was introduced several years ago there was an immediate sense of further flow and harmony.       Almost like taking a huge gasp of fresh air….

The doorway became a metaphor for opening up creative expression. 

 When teaching I often talk about how changing one tiny part of a painting, changes everything, and so it is true for the doorways of life – we simply have to find and open them.

 

It is now time to open the doorways of our minds.    Time to allow new thinking and creative expression to flow through previously blocked areas.    

Flowers for sale at the Saturday Market.    And of course wonderful fresh fish………..Visits to Armona Island, a fifteen minute boat ride from Olhao, were always very special.      I would like to spend more time on Armona Island.   

150 year old olive tree in main courtyard……a tree synonymous with he School. 

Through the school I have met some wonderful people..and made lasting friendships.     I will always be grateful for the day that David Clark contacted me to see if I would be interested in being one of his tutors.    

Mostly I thank him for his vision which I believe will live on in ways that none of us is creative enough to know about at this time.   

I know that David’s legacy will continue through conversations, paintings, friendships and so much more. 

Thank you David,  Margarida, Joanna, Nuno (1) and Nuno (2) and I must not forget Carlos who opened up the doorway between the two buildings:) 

Sadly the School was yet another victim of Covid!.       It is dearly missed, but having said that many of us are still very much in touch and getting together in different places.      It’s legacy lives on. 

USING TWO PIGMENTS – PRUSSIAN BLUE AND BURNT SIENNA

I have learned throughout life to ‘never say never’ HOWEVER, I can. honestly say that I never use black when watercolour painting.

The strong darks you see in this spontaneous demonstration of Cala Lilies…and all the other images in this blog are made up from a mix of Prussian Blue and Burnt Sienna. All the whites are dry white paper…and the greenish hue is one of the many values I can get from these two pigments simply by adding water.

Some Prussian Blue/Burnt Sienna swatches. 1) pure Prussian Blue. 2) pure Burnt Sienna. 3.4 &5 are all Burnt Sienna/Prussian blue mixes. If you make your own swatches you will find that there are countless values that can be achieved depending on the amounts of pigment and water used. Give it a go and of course PLAY.

This quick sketch of my dear friend Patricia is made up from Prussian Blue, Burnt Sienna and dry white paper.

I made this sketch of Amish children when visiting my son and his partner’s farm in Pennsylvania two years ago.. Prussian Blue and Burnt Sienna. mix.

I love to sketch the birds at the River Thames close to where I live….All I need to take with me on for a days sketching is Prussian Blue/Burnt Sienna, brush, paper and water.

Another bird sketch from the River Thames

I cheated a little on this one – note that there is some violet in the negative space but the main attraction, Jenny the dog is all Prussian Blue and Burnt Sienna.

In this quick watercolour sketch of a young woman in David’s Bar in Olhao Portugal – I worked from an orange ground….but only used Prussian Blue and Burnt Sienna for the portrait.

As I look through my many sketchbooks I find countless images painted this way….

Although I am talking about watercolour in this post, here is an example of how I use the same mix in an oil painting. This large alla prima (Direct painting) self portrait, oil on canvas is made up from the same mix.

Strong darks can be made by using other blues and browns….the key is, like everything else, to explore and PLAY.

An interesting note. I first came across this mix when I was living in Chester County, Pa. in Andrew Wyeth territory. I never really fit into the Brandywine Tradition, but I learned from it like everything else in life, and took what works for me.

I hope everyone enjoys a lovely weekend and that the brushes are flying:) Janet.

A Fleeting Moment….The Christening

It was a Sunday morning in 1997 and I was attending a service at St. Edmund’s Church, Crickhowell, Wales.

Unbeknownst to me a christening was being conducted at the back of the church. I turned around and saw this scene. – baby, family and vicar surrounding the font.

It was as if the baby was shining and everyone else had melted into the shadows – shadows which were infused with colour and light coming though the stained glass windows.

I ran out of the Church to my studio and painted this image rapidly.

Painting over old sketches.

I am often asked the question – When is a painting finished?   

This quote from Jidda Krishnamurti is my jumping off point for thoughts on this subject.

‘There is no end to education.   It is not that you read a book,  pass an examination and finish education.    The whole of life,  from the moment you are born to the moment you die, is a process of learning.’

The piano – rapid watercolour/gouacheEach painting we work on (including preliminary sketches and warm up exercises) is connected to all the work we have produced in the past and any work we will produce in the future…….Everything is interconnected.

Unlike many jobs where there is a clear beginning, middle and finish – a painting can take minutes, hours or years to complete…….and even when the painting is not being worked on – the seed of it’s idea is still sprouting information, even if at a subliminal level.

I painted a ground over an old watercolour to make this image…A great way to recycle old paintings that haven’t worked.Something to consider is that striving for perfection can sometimes cripple the creative process.

As artists we seek to attain technical prowess, however it’s important to remember that warming up,  playfulness and risk taking are all part of the exploration and creative process. Always try to work on more than one image at a time.     This can prevent overworking the painting and producing mud, particularly when working with watercolour!

When the question is asked – ‘where do I go next with this painting?’  It is time to stop.   Move onto the next painting and  invariably at a later date the answer will be revealed to your initial question.     Paintings communicate with us if we allow enough space and time…….              When working on canvases….it is customary to turn paintings to the wall – sometimes for long periods.     This helps an artist to see the painting in a fresh light at a later date.    Any work produced in the interim feeds the artist with new information, which is often relevant to the original piece.          Regardless of the end goal…rapid sketches in any medium, along with honing observational skills help an artist to focus the mind.

Many years ago, I gave a workshop in Wales where a group of us walked the Brecon/ Monmouthshire Canal for one day.      Every fifteen minutes we stopped and sketched for fifteen minutes.….Initially, this was daunting to some of the participants….however, by the end of the day…people were producing quick sketches, filled with information.

The point of this story is that sketches had to be finished within fifteen minutes – which again was an excellent way of focusing the mind and also removing the desire to achieve the ‘perfect’ sketch.When we focus on the journey and not the destination – we are freed from restraints which might otherwise interfere with the creative flow.   The joy and learning will be  found in the doing, and answers will be revealed in their own good time.

Janet:)

Across the Generations.

My beautiful maternal grandmother 1887-1970 – Agnes Bowyer Griffiths

We need to remember across the generations that there is as much to learn as there is to teach……Gloria Steinem.

My maternal grandmother was an amazing woman as were so many of that generation..…She lived through two world wars, campaigned for women’s rights and rode a bicycle into her eighties. She was one of the kindest people I have had the good fortune to know. Her husband, Henry Christopher Bowyer Griffiths was a violinist and died at a very young age. I can vaguely remember him.

As I grow older I recognise how fortunate I have been to have both my Grandmothers and Grandfathers still living within my memory. So many have not had this privilege and for many they have no photographs of their grandparents. For those of us who have had the good fortune to remember and have photographs…I believe it’s important that we keep their memories alive.

—————————————————————————————————————–

My Mother – Beryl, Eileen Griffiths Weight – 1922-2016.

My Mother served in WW2 as a VAD in the Volunteer Auxiliary Detachment…a voluntary unit of civilians providing nursing care for military personnel During WW1 and WW2. As my Mother would often say (along with many others of her generation)……the war (WW2) Inevitably changed her life beyond recognition and afforded her a freedom that she otherwise would not have had.

My mother was an amazing gardener and seamstress – I believe that it’s true to say that gardening was the love of her life. It was her art form.

Later in her life she became involved with handicapped children (or as we would say today ‘special needs’ children. This was something she loved doing and brought out a whole other side of her.

My Mother gave me the great gift of ‘self discipline’ which I believe gave me the freedom to be a creative. Without it, I might be ‘floating through life.’

My Aunt – Phyllis Morgan….(AKA Peggy Morgan) 1919-2016

Born in 1919 Peggy was a Red Cross nurse in WW2 – a free spirit, creative and a beautiful soul. She was mother to my cousin James (the only other offspring on that side of the family. Sadly James, who was also very creative, died way before his time having lived a wild and in many ways wonderful life:).

Peggy travelled extensively throughout her life. I remember when I was going through her papers after her death finding that in her mid nineties, always full of hope and adventure, she had renewed her ten year passport. Unlike my Grandmother and Mother, Peggy loved the city and spent her life in London enjoying the theatre, art galleries and all the other things that a big city like London offers.

It was when I first saw Peggy’s beautiful and colourful ‘sketch book’ at my Grandmother’s house when I was three years old that I knew I would be an artist. A vivid memory.

My father, James John Daniel Weight…..another lovely human being who left this realm far too early aged 62. 1919 – 1981

My father was a mathematician, engineer, and lover of the countryside and all things Mother Nature.. My Mother and Father met at a chaperoned dance at the Royal Hasler Naval Hospital during WW2. Had it not been for the war they might not have met.

My father never took a camera on his travels, but rather a sketchbook and watercolours. I still have some of those sketchbooks.

Janet Weight (Reed) born in 1946 with her two children Christie Griffiths Reed and Jarrod Scott Reed and husband Bill Reed. This picture was taken at Chrisitie’s graduation from Hamilton College in upstate New York. .

Christie Griffiths Reed – 1975 …….Anyone who knows Christie will know how special she is….

Jarrod Scott Reed – in his long hair days….a wonderful musician and lover of animals.

My Paternal Grandmother – HIldagarten Weight with her lovely husband William Williams.

This Grandmother played a big part in my early days. She had a lovely son, Colin, one year older than me (my uncle)…..and he and I were the best of playmates. This Granny was very creative and made me my first doll’s house and like my Mother was a wonderful gardener…She also taught her dogs to talk:). So much more to write, but needless to say she was fanastic……Oh and she read the tealeaves in my cup….how wonderful is that…..

I have albums of photographs and documents going back many years, but for now these images represent some of the lives of those near and dear to me.

Note that during this small portion of my family history WAR is the common thread throughout. In fact it has only been during the last 76 or so years, until Russia invaded Ukraine….that we have been at peace in Europe…..no longer.

The shame about iPhones and the millions of pictures we take today relegated to the Cloud is that they get lost in the Cloud!

I would recommend anyone to start thinking about taking and keep photographs that we can pass on through the generations…. because indeed we do have so much to learn form them…..

Janet

The BIRTH of my SON – 1966

When I look at this photograph taken in a photo booth on Las Olas Boulevard in Ft. Lauderdale, Florida in December 1966, so many thoughts and memories come flooding in. At the time we were renting a little cottage right off the Boulevard….

First I must back up and tell you how this photograph came to pass…..

In July of 1965 I married my first husband – In hindsight – not a great idea, however, In my defence I was 19 and at the time it it all seemed rather exciting and dare I say glamorous!

My husband (who was English) had family in the States and so given that we were foot loose and fancy free I agreed to spend two years visiting there, after which we would return to the UK/Europe.

The five day crossing on the United States Liner was one of the roughest on record at that time…and so when I was horribly sick, along with most of the other passengers it wasn’t surprising.

Having arrived in New York we then took a Greyhound Bus – destination Miami Florida where my husband’s uncle picked us up and drove us to Key West,….the most Southern point of the States – just ninety miles from Cuba. The sickness continued….

Long story short, about three months later it was confirmed that I was pregnant, which meant that when we left England on the 28th January 1966, I was probably a week or two pregnant. Jarrod (my son) was born almost nine months to the day later on September 10th 1966 – a great blessing in my life. He was such a dear little boy:)

Agreeing to go to the States for two years – turned out to be the beginning of huge and life changing adventure. In fact I lived and worked in the the States for 28 years until 1993 when I returned to the UK/Europe.

We stayed with my husband’s cousin who was a captain in what was then the active marine base on Key West. Through him and his wife, we helped out with some of the Cuban refugees who were fleeing Castro’s regime in small boats. One couple (British ex pats) arrived with just a few items sewn to their underwear. They had in fact lived a fantastic life in Cuba and had met Castro when he helicoptered onto their land, assuring them that they had nothing to worry about. Within days all their bank accounts, were frozen.

Meanwhile Jarrod was still in my belly…waiting to emerge…….

Here are some of the stand out memories from Key West….

No drinking until you were 21. Being carded!

Covering up when changing on the beach, which was very strange coming from Europe.

My first American pizza….which I loved then and since.

Watching Johnny Carson on tv. (I had never heard of him at the time)

Colour TV for the first time.

All manner of gadgets in the kitchen that I had never seen before, including an electric tin opener!

Drug stores…..rather than the local chemist.

Fast food….- diners

so many flavours of ice cream….

large portions of food.

No where to walk…everyone drove….something I never got used to.

Good weather but high humidity…..

After three months on Key West we then moved up to Ft. Lauderdale, where I was seeing a doctor. Having to pay was quite a shock. . No NHS in the States.

And then Jarrod was born on 10th September 1966 in the brand new Holy Cross Hospital....and what a fuss they made of us. Because he was one of the first babies born there…..newspaper articles were written, an orchid grower sent beautiful plants…and so on.

Interestingly Jarrod was born with red hair:)

When Jarrod was three months old we drove to Staten Island New York where we had friends…..(what a drive that was through the Deep South).

We rented a cottage from Mimi Kolff whose father settled a lot of Staten Island….one of Staten Island ferries (the Cornelious Kollf) was named after him.

Mimi Kollf in her garden – Her house was next to our cottage at HARBOR VIEW Place, Staten Island.

One of Jarrod’s birthdays at the cottage on Staten Island. By this time, I was a single mother in a foreign land…Through Mimi I met Marie and her family…who became a second a family to us. Marie babysat for Jarrod during the time I worked at White, Weld & Co., on Wall Street. I never missed a days work….she was fabulous. All her children are now grown with their own children and grandchildren.

And so that’s the story behind the first photograph taken in a booth on Las Olas Boulevard, Ft. Lauderdale.

What it shows again and again is that ‘none of us is every creative enough to know how things will actually work out…..’

Onwards:)

A good time to be alive….

With my two friends Patrick and Maureen in front of the then newly constructed Commonwealth Institute in Kensington London…….now The Design Museum.

I posted this image on FB and Twitter this week with the added text saying ‘what a good time this was to be alive’. In this post I want to examine why so many feel this way.

I will be 77 years old tomorrow….which is a good time to re-examine life…

On my Lambretta scooter with Maureen on the back – Kensington London.

These pictures were taken in 1964 – when I was studying at Rochester Art College…..and only two years before I sailed for the United States…something I had no idea about at the time these pictures was taken.

Although I had not a clue where life would take me, at that time America was not in the cards!

It was to be the start of my understanding that ‘none of us is ever creative enough to know how things will actually work out………’ It was the beginning of my learning to live one day at a time…and to go with the beautiful flow of life. Not always easy…….I am still learning……

The entrance to Rochester Art College – East Gate Rochester

In the garden of East Gate stands the writing house of Charles Dickens….the Swiss Chalet. It is still there today for anyone visiting Rochester.

Close by are Rochester Castle and Cathedral..plus many places to eat and drink. A good place to visit. The area is steeped in the history of Charles Dickens…..

In 1964 it was only eighteen years after WW2 when the UK and much of Europe were still recovering from the madness of two dreadful world wars.

One of the most significant elements was bringing the youth of Europe together….with the realisation that it was the only way there was any hope of keeping future peace.

We were encouraged to have pen pals and exchange programmes which allowed many young people to visit one another’s countries and families…in short it was the beginnings of the European Union which to.my great sadness the Conservative Government has chosen to leave ! I won’t go there right now….it’s all too painful.

In 1948 our wonderful NHS (National Health Service) was founded.

Given that I was born in 1946…I grew up knowing nothing else, but now having experienced countries where health care is all about money, I cherish the NHS even more.

Washing machines, dish washers, dryers, central heating and all the other added luxuries we now take for granted – most people didn’t have.

When just about everyone is on the same level. with most of their needs being met…it makes for a happier and more harmonious population. Plus there were no fast food outlets as we know them today… We walked much more and people’s diets were healthier. Consequently their overall health was better.

So number one, as a population we didn’t have to worry about getting sick….Education was paid for as long as necessary exams were passed, which illiminated worry…and allowed students to focus on their studies.

We didn’t have a lot of material stuff…. i.e. we made. a lot of our own clothes….(I made the coat I am wearing in the first photograph). Public transportation was reliable and affordable…and so there was not the need for everyone to have a car. School children wore school uniform removing the extra burden of trying to keep up with fashion trends.

Music back then was everywhere, but not in the form of expensive tickets and loads of STUFF to buy. There were so many little places everywhere….and of course Art Schools at that time – were the Hub of the music world…a place where some of the top bands featured.

There was a sense of order. Rarely did we see litter or graffiti. Young people did get up on the bus to give their seat to an elderly person. For the most part, people were polite to one another.

This is my mother teaching at a little school in Kent that she was involved with around 1954.

In a nutshell, I don’t remember being worried a lot, rather I had a sense of HOPE – something we all need. Money was definitely not my key aim or goal in life….as long as I had enough and my needs were met – I was OK….and actually that pretty well sums me up today:)

We can’t turn the clock back, but hopefully we can learn from the past…..

This is my Mother, my uncle walking and me in the stroller. It was taken in Richmond Park….not too far from where I live now. Lives are interesting and complicated:)

Janet.