
Into My Sixties
I approached my sixties thinking I was still in my thirties. I’ve bounced off the walls all my life, unable to stand still for five minutes because there is always something I want to get on with. I’ve rarely been ill or suffered any ailments, apart from self-inflicted. Then the odd niggle appeared. Aches in different parts of me that I’d never felt previously. Generally I’d ignore them or whinge to the wife or dog or anyone.
At the end of 2022 I suffered a heart attack and spent a week in hospital. Four stents were fitted and loads of advice and tablets were given. All sensible advice went in one ear and out of the other to the missus, who constantly repeats it to me.
That week of hospital tedium allowed me to think a lot. My work as a freelance had always been hit and miss, never regular or earning enough. I was always doing what was requested, which usually involved a fair bit of groundwork, research, planning, preparation and client indecision. Then there was the physical side, especially with large murals, up a step-up or ladder, down on my knees and often laid on the floor, plus a contortion of other positions. On top of all that, I’ve always been rubbish at pricing and mainly worked at minimum wage.
The toil takes its toll, which I have increasingly noticed over recent years. But it really hit me as I attempted to bounce along whilst walking the dog on the day I was released from the Royal Derby Hospital. I felt aged overnight and have since had little option but to slow down. Something I’m absolutely useless at.
Consequently, I’ve changed direction, again, to become just an artist. I am at my most comfortable working from home, painting, carving, creating something on the screen before me or doing whatever I want in the confines of my own concentration. Over the past couple of years I have been building up a bit of a collection, which I hope to sell and maybe begin another life chapter.
Click images to enlarge


