July 2022: Keep doing what you love, especially when others don't get it

As a 13-year-old kid I'd sit on the sunny windowsill of my grandparents' guest room reading Enid Blyton's The Magic Faraway Tree, knowing that at any minute my grandfather would walk in and molest me. I had nowhere and no-one to run to for protection. I didn't know it at the time but this book saved my life and instilled in me a belief that beauty, joy, innocence and nature's wonders are out there somewhere and that people are essentially good.

Thankfully I physically escaped my family at 19 when my talent as a double bassist got me into university and a rainbow of jobs at Chichester Festival Theatre.

I then worked as a performer and dresser in the West End and at The National Theatre in London and welcomed the military-style predictability of doing the same shows day in day out and learnt not to be afraid of the dark. I also ran creative writing workshops at homeless day centres.

I became a professional international musician despite how by this time my brain had been scrambled by chronic OCD / PTSD: I loved generating happiness and despite my struggles have never given up on being an artist even when the pandemic, Brexit and bursitis took away my ability to earn any money from it.

So each time complete strangers feel they have the right to get in my face and tell me that my skills no longer have any value today and that what I create will never make me a millionaire, it really gets to me. Before you judge, take a moment to think about what it's taken for this artist to be sitting before you, trying to make life a little brighter and thought / feeling-provoking.

Quite frankly making millions / being a part of the rat race isn't what's important to me. What is important is that I’m not expected to work for free and that I find meaning in my work; what people are buying from me at car boot sales are special products I’ve made with heart to the best of my ability.

It's so rewarding to raise smiles, spark conversations about gardening, relive memories and bring people together through what I do, which is enough for me.