This time last year, I was approaching the end of a long tunnel and realising that laughter had played a vital role in recovery. I haven’t forgotten that.

Suppressing fits of hysterical giggles is just part of who I am. And they often come upon me suddenly, inappropriately, embarrassingly. If you are tempted to relate an incident right now don’t. That’s a firm no! I am embracing the forgiveness idea but there are limits.

My favourite people in the world are the ones who can make me laugh until I cry. It just does something to me. Uncontrollable laughter makes me feel a little bit naughty too. The child in me lights up in giggle mode.

So when a good friend invited me to join her at art classes, I laughed. A lot. I cannot draw a stick figure and much as I’ve always admired art and artists, I just couldn’t see myself painting anything at all. But I went along anyway. At the first lesson, I explained that I had no talent but lots of enthusiasm. The teacher smiled indulgently and asked me what I’d like to paint. Lemons, I said. That’s it? Pretty much.

So I did.

Three lessons later and blow me down if I am not hooked for life! Now I’m not saying I’m a Picasso or anything…but the idea of creating my very own painting(s) simply tickles me pink. Lovely music, fabulous company and a box full of colours has become my new Nirvana. There’s laughter too, in between the serious business of producing art.

Three works later and I’ve named my collection ‘Imperfections.’ Life isn’t perfect, I’m certainly not, so why should my art be?

Let me leave you with this. So you think you can’t paint anything…?


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