Ever since my insensitive art teacher at school, told me over fifty years ago, that I was absolutely hopeless at drawing and painting, I’ve believed it to be true, and have often joked about not even being able to draw a stick man. A few weeks ago, having been encouraged by a friend, I signed up for a six week course in oil painting. I was really apprehensive, fearing I wouldn’t be able to produce anything remotely worth looking at, but soon found that I was enjoying myself, and was amazed to find that I could actually paint something quite pleasing, even to my own very critical eye.
This week I finished my second painting, and hung it in my TV room. I look at the result of these first two efforts, as a reward for taking my courage in both hands, and finally laying to rest a ghost which has haunted me for all those years.
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